Reagan & Luke | Friday Evening | Quarantine
The trip from her apartment to the Rosier Manor had been one of the most arduous, painful experiences she could recall in quite some time. It had not exactly been her preference, after all, to be transported in the back of a cart like a rattling jug of milk; every nerve ending had exploded in protest with every bump they hit, and they'd had to stop at least three times just so she could be sick again. Regardless, even in her miserable state she could recognize that she owed Emmy quite a bit of gratitude. Without question the girl had saved her life... by the time her stubbornness had given way to rational thought, she'd been too weak to seek aid on her own.
She supposed she also owed her assistant some small thanks as well, even despite the fact that he had disobeyed a direct order from her.
By the time they finally rolled to a stop at the servant's entrance of the Manor, Reagan hadn't the strength to sit up let alone support her own body weight. Still she'd blatantly refused Emmy's offers of carrying her a second time... with what little dignity she had left she was determined to make it inside on her own feet, and she told the milkmaid as such as gently as she could (which wasn't very, given how awful a state she was in.) She did accept the younger woman's aid though, and with her arm over Emmy's (surprisingly strong) shoulders, she made her way inside.
It occurred to her, as she was greeted and ushered quickly inside, that this might have been the first time she'd stepped foot outside of her own quarters looking quite so frightful. It also occurred to her, as she was taken to a vacant bed and tucked into it, that for once she couldn't bring herself to care.
Pressing her palms to her face, she focused on steadying her breathing, on not vomiting, anything to take her mind away from how she felt. It was surprising to her to realize that she already missed Emmy... the girl had run off again to find other pathetic patients to rescue, but after suffering alone and in silence for so many hours, she, with her soothing words and gentle assistance, had actually been a comfort. Dragging her hands slowly down to rest against her pale cheeks, she let her dulled eyes take in the scene around her. So many people. It might have been alarming, had she the capacity to feel anything except awful.
Her head rolled to regard the bed directly beside hers, and she couldn't help but betray a small, frustrated groan of defeat. Of all the people she didn't want to see her like this, her former fiance was probably towards the top of the list.
So naturally Lukas Fox would be the one lying there looking back at her.