She wanted to reach out and lay a hand on his arm, to reassure him she was fine. But for now she resisted the urge. "I'm fine," she promised. "I'm not hurt." At least not beyond a few scrapes and bruises that she'd become accustomed to from being outside all the time. Before that, and not nearly long enough ago, she'd been accustomed to being hurt in other ways. Intentional ones. Every day she reminded herself that Ed was gone, that he would never lay a hand on her again, and that she had no reason to be afraid of a man harming her again. At least not outside the usual walkers.
Still. It wasn't the same thing.
"And you're all right? How long have you been here in Washington?" she asked, studying him as best she could in the darkness.