Re: Quicklog: Felicity & MJ at Harry's
[Felicity didn't want to heave because it was revolting. It was but that didn't put the sick taste on the back of her tongue or throttle her fist-tight. She wanted to retch because the amount of blood soaked into bedding, spilled over the floor like a bottle of bad wine or several was too much, way too much, for a human body to lose and be okay. She hadn't paid a lot of attention in bio class past a certain point. And luck? Luck bailed her out a lot from bloody endings to misadventures. But she knew quarts and pints and she knew the way the place glistened, had the stink of an abattoir and she knew the likelihood of a shot in the dark like this one. No one had manipulated Harry's biological scale for lucky chances.
Dead. She tripped over the word in the blank roar in her head, arms full of dirty bedding until she dunked it in the rush of clean water that bloomed rust as the quilt soaked through. Dead. Dead, dead, dead, a chorus and Felicity clamped the bubbled-sob in her throat with steel. Here was not okay to freak out. She left the bedding in the bath and she returned, blank-faced and waited beside the bed for MJ]