His body language had changed drastically as Lynne tried to calm herself down. Her heart was racing from the whole ordeal and she couldn't stop crying even though she didn't want to be; didn't need to be, anymore. She could see in his eyes that he felt badly and she knew by the way he'd been acting before that it hadn't been her, in his head, that he'd hit. It sounded stupid in her head. Cliched, even, when she told herself that he didn't mean it and he'd never do it again, but even if she didn't know him well, she already knew him well enough to know it was true.
He'd gotten up and limped away, which afforded Lynne the opportunity to finally take a few deep breaths and let them out again. She was still shaking but the fear was fading. When he returned, her eyes cast down at the ice pack he'd put between them and she picked it up, putting it to her shoulder with a wince. "Thank you," she said softly back. "I know you didn't mean it, you know, Noah," she added, still unable to look up at him. "I just need a minute. I've...you know, read about that, I just never...really saw it."