Trembling in Noah's arms, it took Lynne a few minutes to answer him, afraid that when she opened her mouth to reply, the ship would interrupt her by tossing them around again.
"Yeah, yeah, I think so...are you?" she asked. She looked down at herself and winced, whimpering in the kind of pain that only came with seeing something that should've hurt. A thick shard of glass had embedded itself in her hip and with tears of pain and fear rolling down her cheeks, she plucked it out and looked away as the blood flowed from the laceration left behind.
For all the gore - her legs and arms were torn to hell from being dragged over the glass - she seemed to be in pretty good shape, save the back pain, headache, and the cut where the glass had been stuck in her skin. When she looked back up at Noah, he looked to be in worse shape, given the blood pouring down his face. "Oh, Noah, Jesus," she gasped, pushing a hand against the source to put pressure on it. Probably not the most sanitary way to stop the bleeding, but it was reflexive. On that thought, she let go of her hold on Noah with her other hand only to use it as a source of pressure on her own injury. "What the fuck was that?" she breathed.