Shit, [ says Kate. It's not blurted out, for once, but something she chooses, the only word she can find that seems suitable after some consideration. Surprise, horror, sympathy, guilt at having ever compared the things she's gone through to Johanna's, a desire to find some acceptable middle ground between taking it lightly and showing the sort of concern it really merits-- it holds a lot, that little word. It's all she says for a minute.
She's still at Johanna's side, not quite touching though the bed's too narrow to put more than a few inches between them at shoulders and hips even thin as they are. Kate's breathing stays steady, not as quiet as the room, just the faint constant hum of distant engines and closer air vents. ]
no subject
She's still at Johanna's side, not quite touching though the bed's too narrow to put more than a few inches between them at shoulders and hips even thin as they are. Kate's breathing stays steady, not as quiet as the room, just the faint constant hum of distant engines and closer air vents. ]
Water?