Reagan & Lachlan | Late Saturday Morning | Quarantine
Being incapacitated was hardly her favorite thing in the world either, but the sharpness with which he answered her was none the less met with a small frown of disapproval. "Not a they but a she, then?" It wasn't so much a question as a counter. She'd heard exactly how he'd been brought in and by whom. She didn't argue when he turned the conversation back towards her, though, watching the place where his fingers kneaded near the corners of his eyes before dropping her gaze to examine her own digits as they pulled at a stray thread in his blanket, twirling it in slow, whirling motions.
"Carted in by the milkmaid," she confessed glumly, and then, softer and nearly under her breath, "Emmy found me. At my apartment." It wasn't something she'd have likely admitted to anyone else if asked, and she didn't sound particularly happy about it, either, despite the fact that the girl had indubitably saved her life last night with her nosy intrusion.