Pepper smiled softly and pressed the six pills she was holding into his free hand. "Got it," she said. He really hadn't needed to clarify - if anyone had noticed how much he'd changed in the time since his return from Afghanistan, it had been her. Some changes had taken longer than others, but Pepper was a nearly constant presence in his daily life, and she would have had to have been blind and deaf not to have noticed.
The fact that she was sitting here with him like this on her day off by choice, and not because of an emergency, barefoot, her hair in a ponytail, wearing jeans, and her favorite lavender colored t-shirt from the New Haven Rep. production of Swan Lake featuring a suspiciously redheaded ballerina on it, was proof that things were different. Not just with him, but with her, as well. Pepper was here because she wanted to be here, and because it was important to her that she was.
Looking him over again, as much as she could see before the water distorted her view, Pepper examined him for any cuts. "Do you have any open wounds?" she asked after a minute, not seeing anything that required medical attention. "Should I get the first aid kit out?" She couldn't remember seeing any on his back, either.