Reagan & Luke | Late Saturday Morning (directly after her visit to Lachlan)
She sank incrementally down onto the edge of her mattress and swiped at her eyes in an attempt to clear the blurry film from her vision. It took her a moment to respond, and when she did it seemed she hadn't noticed or simply hadn't cared that he'd called her by that old nickname. "Just... checking on a friend," she managed finally, and dropped her hand to fix him with weary, half-lidded eyes. A noncommittal humming sound was her initial response to his final question... she most certainly was not okay, but the way he was looking at her made her hesitant to admit it.
Why was he looking at her like that, anyway? Like he'd been waiting for her to return? Perhaps, she supplied dryly, he'd already forgotten about their conversation last night.
Or perhaps, a small, tiny part of her that was made vulnerable by her condition suggested, he was just worried about you. He just cares.
"I'm getting through it," she said finally, as it seemed a safe enough response. She rolled forward, her elbows resting against her thighs, and traced the familiar lines of his face with her gaze. "...Are you feeling any better?"