Re: NYC Streets: Helena/Seven
[He sees and he doesn't. Hears the frown in her voice, maybe, even as he is just blurred vision and his good eye tears up until the wetness is dripping over his cheek along with the iron stain of blood. Neck, his neck, that voice, but is something wrong with his neck? He doesn't think so, but the side of his face throbs something fierce and he can feel the brush of steam against his skin. Doesn't know if he believes it, believes her, but the suggestion to close his eyes seems blissfully appealing and he can't help but tighten the squeeze of his fingers on the offending wrist. He's a vessel in that storm, and that touch is an anchor.]
Marta... [The name is muttered, rough and fervent. Liam and Marta. Where are they? Where is he? And it's hard, so hard not to give in to the call of the voice. He's just going to close his eyes for a minute, sleep for a minute, just rest. His grip on her wrist loosens just slightly, and he starts to slump back towards the broken window.]