Reagan & Luke | Late Saturday Morning (directly after her visit to Lachlan)
The journey to find Lachlan had been spurred by an impulsive decision based on the assumption that she felt slightly better upon waking. The return trip, however, was not nearly so misguided, and she only narrowly avoided crashing to the floor by bracing herself against the footrest of a neighboring bed, her shoulders rounded and her breathing ragged with the exertion of such a trying journey.
She didn't regret going out in search of her closest friend, and she certainly would never admit that it had probably been a foolhardy thing to do, but as the floor seemed to lurch beneath her and nausea burned hot and vile at the back of her throat, she could certainly acknowledge that it wasn't necessarily the wisest or most well-thought-out decision she'd ever made.
The auburn tangles of her hair slipped forward over her shoulders to effectively mask her face, but it was the soft sound of her name that caused her to blink her eyes open and lift her head again with agonizing slowness. She did not seem as exasperated to find herself looking into the dark chasms of Luke's eyes as she had yesterday upon her arrival. If nothing else, there was a kind of weary resignation there; it was becoming unsurprising that Luke was there to bear witness to her more defeated moments after all of this time. Besides, the soft lullaby he'd orchestrated for her last night was still fresh in her mind, despite everything else they'd discussed.
"You're awake. I thought you'd... sleep until noon." She began to slowly inch her way down the foot of his bed towards her own.