"No aspirin. Aspirin bad. Gotcha." Evelyn nodded as he looked up at her, his eyes glassy in a haggard face. He looked exhausted, battered, even a little delirious, but still he somehow held it together. A stream of sorrow rippled through her heart, and she reached up to lightly graze the fingers of one hand over the side of his face. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," she murmured. "I didn't know... it was just chance that I found you... random coincidence..." Deeply disturbed by the thought that she could have so easily missed rescuing him, she bit her lip, lashes sweeping downward as she lowered her hand. Then she stood up, her legs trembling with the effort.
He seemed to have inexplicably developed what sounded like a Scottish (albeit rather slurred) brogue, and one corner of her mouth quirked slightly with bemusement. That was somehow just so very him. A time-traveling alien with a Scottish accent. Only sometimes, though.
She took the cup from him to fill it up at the faucet again. "Well... needs must," she said dismissively in response to his surprise that she was still able to keep her feet under her. "I'll rest and find something to eat later, before I try to take you to your TARDIS. I'm used to feeling like I'm about to fall flat on my face at any given time by now. You learn to push through it." Handing the now brimming cup back down to him, she proceeded to pop open the mirrored medicine cabinet over the sink and rifle about until she found the tube of antibiotic ointment.
She dropped back into a slightly unsteady crouch beside him and unscrewed the cap on the ointment. "And of course you're welcome to use my couch. I've also got some mouthwash over by my toothbrush whenever you want it." She gave a rueful smile. "Certified aspirin-free, I promise."
Finding that she was a bit too wobbly in this position, she shifted her legs so she was kneeling on the cold linoleum. She squeezed a translucent, viscous glob of the ointment onto one finger and reached for him. "Here, let me see."
Evelyn
He seemed to have inexplicably developed what sounded like a Scottish (albeit rather slurred) brogue, and one corner of her mouth quirked slightly with bemusement. That was somehow just so very him. A time-traveling alien with a Scottish accent. Only sometimes, though.
She took the cup from him to fill it up at the faucet again. "Well... needs must," she said dismissively in response to his surprise that she was still able to keep her feet under her. "I'll rest and find something to eat later, before I try to take you to your TARDIS. I'm used to feeling like I'm about to fall flat on my face at any given time by now. You learn to push through it." Handing the now brimming cup back down to him, she proceeded to pop open the mirrored medicine cabinet over the sink and rifle about until she found the tube of antibiotic ointment.
She dropped back into a slightly unsteady crouch beside him and unscrewed the cap on the ointment. "And of course you're welcome to use my couch. I've also got some mouthwash over by my toothbrush whenever you want it." She gave a rueful smile. "Certified aspirin-free, I promise."
Finding that she was a bit too wobbly in this position, she shifted her legs so she was kneeling on the cold linoleum. She squeezed a translucent, viscous glob of the ointment onto one finger and reached for him. "Here, let me see."