Re: Brooklyn: Wren & Ryan
[Wren watched the process - shirt, carrying, blanket. She understood that Ryan had been younger, and that Ryan had willingly chosen this man with the dark eyes and fickle smile. She thought it was a really, really bad choice, but she didn't know the other woman well enough to know why, just like she didn't understand what it was like to be injured like that. Because she saw the knee, oui? In a quick slip of movement and beneath crumpled sheets, she saw the knee, and she wondered and wondered.
Selfish as could be, and she tried to think if Luke would still want her if she couldn't walk. If she was ruined, grey skin and tired, and she knew that wasn't very nice. But Wren valued her sexuality more than anything, at least when it came to keeping her husband interested, and she wasn't intelligent enough to keep him without it. It scared her, and she didn't like it. Reality, staring her in the face, voices through walls and stains on the ceiling, she watched as Marco disappeared with the ballerina that couldn't dance anymore.
Hands folded, and she stayed until Marco came back. She should've gone, because that was safe, and that was smart. But Wren wasn't ever safe, and she wasn't very smart. She waited, and Marco came back eager, and he came back randy.
Ten minutes later, and barely a sound from above, and Wren came down the stairs to sit on that bottom step at Ryan's hip.] Did they say how long?