The chaotic whirlwind is all but over. The most urgent cases have been dealt with; patched up and put back together as best as Lita and her ragtag group of volunteers can manage. As the hours fall away, Lita systemically moves from one patient to the next to the next until there was no one left to be seen. Now begins the waiting game. Monitoring the recovering wounded is just as essential as starting someone's heart again or pumping air into their lungs. Follow up is key. Sometimes the outcomes of patients read like a textbook but not here. The variables she's working with are too varied and unstable to make any assumptions of who will still be with them when the morning comes. She's done her best; Lita can say that at the very least.
Aside from the strange run in with Pete this afternoon, Lita has only seen James in her periphery. High stress and unresolved feelings on top of antagonism made for a strange chemistry that begged for a reaction. It was a weird, isolated moment; one she'd like to bury and forget at this late hour. Still, even after, she found herself looking up from her work to catch a glimpse of black on blond or, perhaps, she had only imagined it. It seems like the one time she isn't looking for him is when he appears.
"Hey," Lita says. It feels strange to be making conversation that wasn't a a slowly worded instruction or barked command. Lita thinks James should look terrible but he doesn't, not to her. Tired, of course. Sad. But seeing him is like a balm to her fraying nerves; wonderful and soothing and familiar.
"No," Lita replies to his question, setting down one of the makeshift charts they'd cobbled together to keep track of the patient's progress to brush her bangs out of her face. James looks as if he's aching for purpose but there's nothing left for him, or her, to do. "No, it's okay. The only thing left to do now is wait. I'll come back in a few hours to check on people but for now I was just about to..."
What was she about to do? Sleep? As if she could. She has a vague plan about food and a chair to rest her weary bones but there's no form to it.
"...I'm not sure, actually. Don't really know what to do with myself now no one is bleeding. It's a good feeling, though."
Lita pauses, eyes flicking down from his face to the rest of him and back up again, appraising him.