Who: Wes Overby & Joelle Foster What: Much later after this. When: Backdated to late Friday night, January 21 2011 Where: Wes's place Warnings: None? Angst? Leia sized freak outs? Sith-sized scoundrel charm? An overabundance of cute? It's too late for me to be writing warning labels.
Joelle was at her wits end. Everyone was more or less alright, aside from Cho who very tragically didn't make it out of the building before it exploded. Joelle couldn't care less about him, she was much more concerned with the people she'd come back with. It had been a close call, if Joelle and the rest of the cavalry (Laura, Abigail and Nate piloting the falcon) hadn't arrived when they did Wes might have actually been killed. He had almost been killed. It didn't matter how many times he assured her he was fine, he didn't look fine. He'd taken quite a beating from Cho, and judging from everything he'd told her about his last encounter with him, the entire way there Joelle had been fearing for his life. Lucky for both of them his life was still in tact when they'd gotten there, but that didn't make her feel any better now.
Wes and Joelle had taken Roxanne back to his place, Wes was pretty beaten up but he could at least walk, and Roxanne had just been through a trauma. Joelle wasn't about to leave either of them, so she'd stayed. A few hours later Roxanne was fast asleep in the other room and Joelle was in the kitchen, washing a few things she'd used to clean some of Wes's wounds. Her posture was completely rigid as she stood by the sink, absentmindedly drying a bowl with a dish towel while she stewed in her own thoughts. She could have lost Wes tonight and she honestly didn't know what to do with these feelings. They were tearing her apart.