Lyra watched her for a few long frowny seconds, then dislodged one of Rosario's hands from the bottle, not to take the bottle away, but to lace her fingers through Rosario's. Squeezing Rosario's hand, she used her free fingers to unscrew the bottlecap and nudge it toward Rosario. "What happened on Thursday?" she asked, urging her to keep talking.
Also, thinking shit, which day was Thursday? Without a work schedule she'd lost track of the days so quick. Thursday, the day she and Avery landed in Vegas, right? (Another small stab of guilt at that, that something was screwing with Rosario and Lyra'd been thousands of miles away, but she tried to shove it back— she hadn't known. Go fuck yourself, guilt.)