"Yeah, Kess," says Pete first, only a little distractedly. He looks up
again, meeting Lindsey's gaze, expression serious and bordering on showing
his concern. "I need to run through a few bits of information with you.
Also I need some lunch and to pick up more gauze. Here, let me call
Pryde..."

Information. Hm. Lindsey nods, and releases Kess's hand with the gentlest
possible squeeze. It's okay. "All right." Whatever works. He already has
suspicions about what did this.

"Lindsey..." Kess murmurs after him. She has to tell him /something/, but,
well, if Pete knows... maybe she can figure it out for herself first. "I'm
sorry." Her hand drops to her lap and she picks at the bandage with her
other hand, head bowing over it. Pete's words get another numb nod,
acknowledgement without the energy for anything else.

Prydes aren't bad things to have around. Summonable on demand when you
need someone to sit with the wounded, for one thing. Multipurpose. Useful.
And this one has even managed to get in some sleep. It doesn't take her
long to show.

Pete looks up once Kitty's come in, smiling lopsidedly. "Kitty. Good. Good
morning, by the way. Lindsey and I are off to get some breakfast and some
clean gauze." With that, he stands up, smiles at Kess, and inclines his
head to Lindsey, and heads out the door, assuming Lindsey will follow.

Which he will, nodding to Kitty and not responding in any notable way to
Kess's calling of his name. Lindsey will probably have to come back, once
breakfast and gauze are obtained, just because Pete needs to sleep. But he
won't want to, dammit.

Kess glances up as Kitty comes in, panicked at first, hands curling into
the sheet that tangles around her legs. Recognition relaxes her slowly,
and she drops her head again. She's too weary to return Pete's smile, or
to interpret Lindsey's silence towards her. She starts to tug the sheet
out from around her legs, restless and tired of being still while her mind
runs in ragged circuits.

Kitty sees Lindsey's nod and raises him half a wave of a hand, along with
a reasonably quiet, "Morning." But that might be back to Pete, just as
easily. No requirement of conversation even for the brief few moments
they're passing one another. Besides, she catches sight of Kess's initial
panic, and - well, that gives her something else to worry about. "Hey. 'S
just me. It's okay." She half-smiles, and adds, "We met when I was out
cold, remember?"

Kess lifts her gaze enough to glance at Kitty and nods. "Hey." Lips
attempt a smile, but fail mostly. It takes all her concentration to get
her legs free and swinging down to the floor, mostly because she's trying
to not think about anything else. She struggles to stand then, swaying and
wincing as gashes are pulled under their bandages. Noticing then that she
no doubt lost her jeans somewhere in the being patched up, she reaches to
pull the sheet around her again. That'll do.

Kitty takes quick steps to come up by Kess's side, though not actually
touching - not unless it looks like the other girl's about to fall. Okay,
/really/ about to fall, not just near-terminally unsteady. "Hey. Careful.
You lost a lot of blood," tell her something she doesn't know, "and I'm
/not/ the medical expert here, okay?" Her tone's almost joking; there's a
certain degree of reflex urge to keep it light.

Kess is feeling somewhat light-headed and can't quite get the sway out of
her stance. Somehow, handling the sheet in pulling it around her makes
that worse, and as soon as she can, a hand lifts to rest on Kitty's
shoulder. She winces, and reduces the contact to just fingers. But still,
it helps. "Thanks." She's still keeping to Pete's suggestion and
whispering, her voice rough from the treatment her throat received. "I was
just... window." Slow steps head in that direction, and her gaze wanders
ahead. There's a chair over there, right?

There is. Sooner or later, there had to inevitably be. "Just take it easy.
Don't fall." Kitty's advice is good if you can take it, but there's always
that if. Still, though she's letting Kess handle the contact for now,
she's still got an eye out - impact between bird-girl and floor would be
bad. No conversation while Kess is on her feet. No distracting. Yes.

Kess gives a soft smile at Kitty's words and a slight nod. No, falling
would be bad. Her good wing fans slightly for balance as she hobbles to
the window, standing in front of it for a moment, before she nudges a
chair sideways to it. The done, she climbs up onto it, awkwardly
clambering and wincing her way to be seated on one arm, bare feet
balancing her out by resting on the other arm, wings free to droop in
their various states behind her. She tears her gaze away from the view
outside to look up at Kitty. "I'm okay," she says uselessly. She's trying
hard to keep her expression empty, but it's starting to not work any more.

Kitty glances aside at her, shifting to prop herself against the wall
beside the window. Still close enough to lunge and cushion a little if
Kess's balance on the chair starts to go. "Besides you," she says gently,
"I was the third person in here last night. You don't have to lie for my
sake. 'Kay?"

Kess gives Kitty a helpless, pleading look and nods mutely. The lies help
her sanity. Arms loop around her bent legs and she struggles in a sigh,
expelling it with a cough. "'Be okay," she whispers, mostly to herself.
She always is, and there's a hint of bitterness about that. Her head
droops as she sniffs softly, numb tears finally working their way to the
surface. "Marley." She still can't quite believe it, mostly because she
doesn't want to.

Kitty reaches across and touches Kess's hand - just her fingers, the same
way Kess kept contact with Kitty's shoulder. But contact, all the same.
"I'm sorry." The words are very soft. They're not much, but they're all
she's got, really.

The contact helps. Kess' hand turns enough to try to catch Kitty's fingers
between her own, clinging to the touch. Her other hand lifts to her face
to rest her forehead in as her cheeks are wetted again, and her chest
struggles to contain normal breathing around the lump that begs for sobs
and the throat that protests them. She shakes her head gently in denial
that Kitty needs to be sorry - hardly her fault - and for a while, there
aren't any words to find.

A quiet knock at the door, and Lindsey steps inside without waiting for an
answer. He has two carrier bags, one with various food items and one with
clean gauze and first-aid supplies, and these he leaves by the door. A
glance to the girls. "I'm just gonna go."

Kitty hasn't moved, just holding to Kess's fingers - watchful, quiet -
right up till that knock sounds, and the reflex tension at /any/ sound at
the door snaps her head up. "Lindsey." The relief at seeing him is in her
voice. Heaven only knows what she'd've done if he /hadn't/ knocked. Then
she glances to Kess as well, uncertain, at his words.

Kess barely reacts to the noises at the door, but the voice and the name
does lift her head. She wipes at her cheeks with a handily absorbing
bandage on the back of her free hand. Her gaze goes up to Kitty's face
with a minute shake of her head, mute pleading to not let him go, backed
up by a tightening of her fingers on Kitty's. She can't turn around to
look at him, and struggles to control her breathing enough to say; "Stay."
Probably not loud enough for him to hear.

It wasn't, not quite, and Lindsey wasn't waiting for an answer anyway. He
steps back out of the door and pulls it closed after him, and unless
someone actively pursues, he's going to go home.

Loud enough for Kitty to hear, though. "Lindsey -" The door's already
closed. Kitty pushes away from the wall, her fingers tightening in return
before they slip free of Kess's, and it's a quick sprint across the room
for her to tug the door open again. "Hang on?" she calls down the hallway,
followed by a slightly quieter, "She'd like you to stay." Kitty really
doesn't want to have to chase him down the hallway to the elevator. But if
she has to, well...

Kess takes the moments of solitude to try and pull herself together.
Carefully taken deep breaths help, and cheeks dry under wrapped-hand
swipes over her cheeks, giving them a bit more colour than they had had in
bloodless paleness. She'll just sit quietly and see who comes back, and
stare out of the window.

Pausing a little way down the hall, Lindsey looks back. "I can't," he
tells Kitty, very quietly. He's putting everything he's got into
maintaining some semblance of calm. "I can't face her. I have to go."

Something about his expression triggers responses Kitty didn't know she
still had programmed. She simply nods back to him, as if falling into
line, and says, "Be careful." A glance is flicked over her shoulder, down
the hallway the other way, before she retreats back to the door.

Kess is still sitting and looking at the sky she can't reach right now.
She's calmer now. Just waiting.

Careful. That'd be one option. Lindsey heads for the elevator, without
looking back again.

Kitty doesn't actually close the door to the room till he's out of sight,
and doesn't speak again till the door's closed. "He can't. Not right now.
I think Pete must've told him who -" There's a strange, careful tone in
her voice, and then she shakes her head and stops talking and walks back
to stand beside Kess at the window.

Kess looks up and nods sadly. Poor Lindsey. Did he know before? She
doesn't know, and isn't inclined to beat herself up about that right now.
"Thanks," she offers Kitty. She considers the girl next to her for a
moment thoughtfully. She's so tired. "He's okay?" A pause, and then; "Did
you know her?"

Kitty half-smiles aside at Kess, but her eyes flick out the window again a
moment after. Watching, maybe, just in case a certain lawyer happens to
pass through their field of view. "Well, he's not bleeding, anyway."
Physically. "He brought some stuff by. I'll look through it in a couple of
minutes. No, I - never met her. I've heard about her, some." Most of which
was summed up as 'you'd have to meet her,' really.

"She's...." Kess starts to say something, but the thread eludes her. A
shrug turns into a twitch of shoulders and a rustle of feathers. "She's
different now. Don't meet her." She shakes her head slowly. "I never...
she's so different." And the same, which is more scary.

It's actually a bit longer than one might think before Lindsey exits the
hotel. He pauses just outside the doors, taking in the heat and watching
with a sort of quiet bemusement as people go about their mornings. Just
like it was any old morning. Then, walking with his head down, he starts
off slowly towards Elm Hollow.

There he is. Kitty watches Lindsey walk, and absently ignores the mildly
distressing feelings that the watching inspires - they go in the same bin
with all the /other/ distress from the last couple of days. "I'll try,"
she says with a slightly feeble attempt at humor, "to leave the meeting
her to people who might be able to help. Or who can run a lot faster than
I can."

Kess catches sight of the familiar figure when her gaze wanders outwards
again. She focuses in on him closely, her eyes one part of her that still
works without pain, watching him with a tension in her lips. "Help?" She's
sounding hopeless about that now. "I could have... but I couldn't do it. I
couldn't hurt her." Guilt and shame claw at her, and she folds in on
herself a bit as she perches on the chair, gaze fixed on the street below.

Lights are against him. Lindsey stops at the edge of the sidewalk and
stares into space. There's not much of anything in his expression at all,
but people are nonetheless avoiding him.

Kitty reaches across to touch Kess's fingers again, returning to that
light, careful clasp. "That's not a bad thing," she says quietly. The
motion's made blind; she's still watching Lindsey. Only one other person
she's ever seen do something quite like that. Be careful. Please. "It's -
you knew her. You /saw/ her. There's nothing wrong - with not being able
to hurt a friend."

"She was so /nice/...." The already soft voice fades some more, and Kess
coughs softly to try to revive bruised vocal chords. She catches Kitty's
fingers automatically, pulling her hand in to hold lightly between both of
hers. "I guess I'm not too good with people I trust turning on me." It
always ends up with her in something of a terrible mess. She watches
Lindsey almost absently, noting expression when she can.

The lights go green, and the few people who had also paused at the curb
move off. Lindsey doesn't appear to notice, standing there blank-faced and
distant. Somebody goes past at a jogging pace, bumping the lawyer lightly,
and he blinks and steps into the road.

Kitty holds her breath just for a moment when Lindsey finally steps off
the sidewalk - not into traffic. Okay. Good. She doesn't object to Kess
stealing her hand, either, turning it a little to make sure that there's
no pressure on any abraded or cut skin. "I'm sorry," she says again, still
quiet. "Yeah. That's ... kind of the definition of 'trust,' I guess." She
tugs her attention back to the bird-girl for a moment. "Is there anything
you need? Pete probably asked already, but ..." Well. Men. And she's got
to take at least ten seconds not considering the words 'demon-possessed.'

Kess shakes her head without shifting her gaze. "I'm okay." She hurts all
over, with odd pricks of pain making themselves known as the local
anaesthetics start to wear off. She just clenches her jaw at it and curls
her hands around Kitty's hand a bit closer. "He mentioned the
painkillers," she offers of Pete. She sighs tightly. "I'm sorry, Kitty.
You probably have... stuff. To do." And she's babysitting a broken bird.

From outside, abrupt and angry, the sound of a car horn, followed by the
musical tinkling of broken glass. It probably *sounds* like an accident.
What's actually happened is that someone got impatient with Lindsey's
casual approach to crossing the road, and then found that their impatience
cost them a windshield. The lawyer stands in the street, and stares down
the driver, who looks like he's deciding this whole thing isn't really
worth pursuing. Probably a good thing.

Kitty gives a faint little wry smile at Kess's mention of painkillers.
"Did he mention where he /put/ them?" Wasn't here. Didn't see. Don't know
if she's already been dosed - the summary Wisdom gave her in six words was
better than some people could've picked up in six minutes, but it's still
short on some important details. "And nah. I still don't have a day job."
And, thank goodness, she's no longer spending a significant piece of her
waking hours making sure people aren't getting shots taken at them. Quick
wink across at Kess, and she starts to add, "So kee--" Car horn. Glass
breaking. Kitty's hand is abruptly tugged out of and partly /through/
Kess's, which feels almost indescribably strange, and she takes a quick
step toward the window. And stops, that fast, lifting both hands to her
face and breathing fast. "... God. One of these days, he's going to give
me a heart attack."

Kess sits up a little straighter as something happens below, giving a
wince at the motion. She looks worried, and gives a slight shudder at the
feeling of Kitty's withdrawal. She spares a glance down to her hands, then
over to Kitty, bemused. What the hell was that? "He's okay," she offers on
re-examining the scene below. "And Pete said you had them." She studies
the lawyer for a moment, and looks worried again. Such a damn mess.

Still not really registering anything beyond faint puzzlement and
irritation, Lindsey turns away from the car, shoes crunching on broken
glass that flew this far but didn't injure him. He makes the sidewalk
without further incident.

"Yeah. Yeah." Kitty lets out another breath, and makes the tail end of it
into almost a laugh. "Sorry. Half my friends aren't getting along too well
with cars these days." Her expression goes slightly sheepish, and she
brushes fingers against Kess's lightly once more. See? Solid. "Sorry I
flipped out a second there. Um. He did?" Lindsey's on the sidewalk. Good.
She can look away from him now, right. "'Kay. That means they're
probably..." Still somewhere reasonably organized and rational. Great.
She'll go rummage. As soon as she manages to back off from the window.

Kess glances up at Kitty with surprise. "Yeah, mine too." She wonders idly
if it could be the same friend. The thought makes her weary all over
again. A weak smile shows itself at the renewed contact. "I'll watch," she
offers, and the expression turns rueful. "I'm good at that." She can at
least manage to keep the lawyer in sight for as long as buildings and
obstacles allow.

Nothing much more going on outside. As the car with the broken windshield
pulls away, Lindsey starts walking again, heading for the next
intersection at a slow, shellshocked pace. Those people who saw what just
happened avoid him. People he passes close to glance back, frowning. He's
surrounded by the heightened, electric tension of a telekinetic on the
very point of detonation.

Kitty watches for a moment longer, beside Kess, then murmurs, "I'll, um.
I'll go look for the painkillers." She hooks a slim black cellphone out of
her right front pocket, and lays it on the edge of the seat of Kess's
chair, within the other woman's reach. Just in case. "Thanks." Because
having to watch the /next/ intersection might be a little too much.

Kess nods at Kitty and leans forward to keep an eye on the one below.
There's nothing comforting about what she's seeing, only too familiar with
the odd buzz around him when he's tense. It makes her worried, and she
drops her feet to the seat of the chair, next to the phone, so that she
can frown out the window a little better. A hand reaches forward to dangle
out the open pane, fingers feeling into what little breeze is outside.

No more incident. Nothing else breaks or shatters, nobody else tries to
start anything. Lindsey walks, and when he reaches the corner he turns and
is out of sight.

Kitty takes a few moments just to rummage in the box of supplies they'd
brought in the night before. She'd packed it; even odds Pete just couldn't
find what he was looking for. She doesn't say anything, though she doesn't
turn her back on Kess, either. Always half watching, at least out of the
corner of an eye.

Kess' fingers droop outside when she loses sight of Lindsey. She lets out
a sad breath and turns her head to see where Kitty's got to. She can only
turn it a little way before the bruises protest, and relaxes back into
facing forward after only a moment. "He's gone," she murmurs, hoping that
the other girl is close enough to hear.

Nope, only one of them's in the box; the other didn't make it out of the
collection liberated from the hospital. Not that hard to find, if you're
patient and thorough. Which Kitty is - well, at the moment. "D'you have
any problem with Tylenol? Or codeine?" Or sulfites? Or or or - no. Stop
right there. And she saw food in one of those bags Lindsey brought - it's
collected and fetched back to the window with the pills, to be hunted
through for anything it won't hurt Kess too much to swallow.

It only occurs to Kess when Kitty mentions the drugs that pills will
really hurt going down. She shakes her head, but more to indicate
ignorance than anything else. "I don't tend to take 'em," she murmurs.
There's a pause, then she drops her feet down off the chair. It's a little
easier to stand now, body having woken up a bit, and the enticement of
food helps. And the bed would be so much more comfortable. "They really
help?" It hurts to move; she'd forgotten that in her short time sitting
still.

"They really do." Kitty's assurance on that is heartfelt. "And if you've
never taken 'em, you've got pretty good odds they'll work better. The good
ones make you sleepy, though - and a little goofy. Which is okay, because
if you doze off, you're saving more energy for letting your body put
itself back together." If she's talking, Kess doesn't have to. And with
Lindsey out of sight, finally, there's a definite urge to talk. "Let me
know if you need a hand?" There's a lot more dignity in even shuffling a
few steps on one's own. But, yes, pain.

Kess waggles a hand to indicate that she's okay, and walks stiffly to the
bed, slowly but not too unsteadily. Of course, climbing back on the bed is
a more painful business, as legs have to be bent up and bandages brush the
covers. She pauses halfway on to catch her breath. "Not sure if I want
sleepy," she murmurs, because at least conversation is something else to
think about. "Never used to let us. You sure they're okay?" She casts a
glance to Kitty, before settling herself on the mattress again.

Kitty replies, "Well - I never had a problem with it," and gives a quick,
slightly crooked grin. "And I got given the stuff for the first time when
I was thirteen. It's pretty standard. Or we can just give you regular
extra-strength Tylenol, which is even more innocuous." She studies the
bottle for a moment. Tylenol 3. Thirty milligrams ... "And we can always
start you on a partial dose, and see if it's too unpleasant. You don't
/have/ to keep taking it. Lots of options." Cheerful ones, at least from
her tone. Kess makes a much better patient than the guy she's used to
taking care of. "What do you mean, never used to let you?"

The names really don't mean much to her, so Kess simply nods vaguely and
extends a hand for whatever Kitty passes to her. At least she's not too
beat up about trust issues this time to worry about being poisoned.
Really, in the state she's in now, there are easier ways to get rid of
her. "Back home," she replies softly, tone bland. "Not much point if it
was just numbed away." She's mostly watching Kitty's hands, rather than
her face.

A glass is filled and fetched back. "We'll keep you with easy stuff for a
bit," Kitty replies. "You know - pudding, ice cream, applesauce ..."
Desserts. She's teasing, but only mostly. Anything that's not hard to
swallow. "Yeah," she adds, but only after Kess has at least tried to get
the medicine down. "It's different here." She doesn't look at the other
woman for a moment. Certainly she doesn't want to /ask/ about all that
stuff. And she has enough guesses about why Kess knows how to judge
whether she can stand and walk or not. Some things just get too familiar.

They do indeed. It takes Kess a couple of swallows to get the pill down,
and she winces and coughs harshly once, bottling back more because
coughing is almost worse than swallowing the damn thing in the first
place. "Ice cream sounds good," she says after a moment, managing a small
smile. See? She's okay. She'll be fine. It's what she tells herself, and
it's usually true. "'Be okay, Kitty. Week or so."

"I'll make Pete getcha some on his way back," Kitty offers, with a quick
smile. Then she adds, "I believe you, too. Most people wouldn't've been on
their feet this quick - you must heal pretty fast." That's admiring, and
then she fetches Lindsey's food delivery over to be sorted through in
company with the other woman. What here is actually edible for you right
now? Let's find out.

"Yeah." Kess doesn't sound quite so enthusiastic about her healing
ability, though she does appreciate it. The alternative is so much worse.
She reaches a hand back to pull her injured wing forward carefully,
curling it slowly around her shoulder so that she can run fingers along
the bones. "At least, nothing broken this time." Which is kinda amazing,
considering everything. Her head tilts, then straightens as her bruised
neck prevents the habitual gesture, and contents herself with what bit she
can see of what Kitty's sorting through. "Anything's fine." She'll eat
just about anything.

Since both Lindsey and Pete knew about Kess's condition, odds are it's
primarily stuff she can handle. In the interest of getting something at
least milk-related into Kess's system reasonably fast, Kitty digs up (with
a faintly pained look) a couple of snack-sized cups of chocolate pudding
and a plastic spoon; they're offered to Kess with a resigned sigh. Pete
calls her a health nut for /some/ reason. "At least it's not hospital
food," she admits. Which is nutritious, well-balanced, and generally
completely inedible. Poor dietitians. "Yeah. Wisdom was worried for a bit,
but no fractures. And no concussion that we could tell." Bright points!
Sort of. "Just tell me you don't share his habit of getting ribs cracked,
do you?"

Kess takes the chocolate puddings and starts to peel the top off one,
holding the other out to Kitty politely. She's not that hungry, and, well,
she can't give the girl a damn thing else. She smiles and snorts softly
with amusement - giggling is a little beyond her right now. "Hollow
bones," she explains ruefully with a hint of an awkward shrug. If Kitty
had to lift the unconscious girl at all, she might have noticed that Kess
is rather lighter than she looks. "I break pretty easy." Again, just one
of those things she's used to.

Nope, the various guys got most of the Kess-moving detail. But Kitty got
to see Erik shifting her single-handed, without problems. "Then I'm
/really/ glad you didn't this time." Kitty accepts the other cup with a
quick little smile, not arguing. Though it's not as if Kess has to give
Kitty anything at all - given that in a sense they're paying /her/ back.
"I guess there are some downsides to being able to sneak up on people on
rooftops, huh." Keep talking, keep her occupied at least till the pain
meds kick in.

Kess is just not used to people owing her. Her mind just doesn't work that
way. She starts to eat the pudding very, very slowly, chewing it rather
more than necessary before risking it in her throat. It goes down, at
least. Her smiles are gaining strength, and she pushes back a comment
about the last time she got cut up this bad. By the same hands. "Yeah, I
guess. But it's worth it." And it's not like she can do anything about it.
Her gaze wanders automatically to the window, then back to Kitty. "I
should take you up sometime." She knows the girl doesn't mind heights.

Kitty admits, "If you can take another hundred-twenty pounds - I'd really
like that." Conversely to Kess, she doesn't look like she should weigh
that /much/, but - it's all in the build and muscle tone. "A friend of
mine used to take me flying with her when I was a kid, but it's been a
long time." Her attention stays on Kess, now, rather than meandering
around. After a moment, she does at least remember that she's holding a
plastic cup, and rummages for another spoon.

Kess' posture relaxes when the painkillers start to take effect. At first,
she isn't even aware of it, and then realises that it doesn't hurt so much
when she swallows. She blinks at the pot of pudding in her hand, then
turns her other hand over to look at the bandaged palm, nudging it lightly
with the end of the spoon. Wow. She blinks back to the conversation after
a moment, trying not to be weirded out by the growing lack of pain. "Oh,
you'd be no problem," she assures Kitty easily, and she has to remind
herself to speak quietly. Pain aside, she still sounds pretty terrible.
"Soon," she promises. Just as soon as she's whole again. A frown passes
over her face then, and she looks at Kitty anew. "Could, could you do me a
favour? I should... can you call Tulio?" He might have heard, might have
called to the apartment... and what is she going to do about /that/?
Nothing right now, but... well, it's a lot to think about.

Kitty gives a little tiny smile at that nudging. "Hey, careful with that.
You can check it out when we change dressings." Something that was not
going to happen without /something/ in the way of medication, because -
well, extended potential ow. "And sure." She picks herself up, plastic
spoon and all, and goes to fetch her cellphone over from the chair. Mobile
partner! "You'll have to give me the number, though. And anybody else you
want to know you're going to be okay. Do you want to try talking to -"
take a guess at pronouns - "him yourself?"

Kess is becoming increasingly deliberate in her motions as she grows aware
of the lack of pain. She doesn't want to risk accidentally making things
worse because they don't hurt so much. It's almost scary, not knowing what
the true state of her body is. She shakes her head at the question firmly.
"He'll only worry if he hears me." Broken-voiced as she is. "Just, tell
him I'm okay, and I'll come see him soon?" She doesn't intend to stay here
too much longer. Strange place, can't relax totally. She gives the number,
and tries to think of anyone else she should call. No, no-one she wants to
worry. She scrapes out the last of the pudding. "That's... that's all."
She's looking weary again.

Kitty leans to collect the cup and spoon when Kess is done with them.
"Right, it's done." Not literally, but it will be in a moment. And it's
not as if they're keeping her hostage - just giving her a safe place to
heal enough to get back on her feet. "I'll go call, and take care of
these. You get some sleep if you can - 'kay?"

Kess gives up the cup and spoon with a slightly surprised smile. "Thank
you, Kitty," she says, catching at the other girl's hand quickly, heedless
now of hurts she can't feel. She's so very tired. "I... you've been very
kind. Thank you." So much to think about, and she doesn't have the energy,
so she settles for what's immediately important; gratitude. A soft, sad
smile, and she prods at a pillow, curling up her good wing so that she can
lie on it. "I... think I'll sleep a bit now." Darkness is so much simpler.

Kitty takes the moment to squeeze Kess's fingers lightly again - she's not
heedless of them. She remembers all of them, vividly. "Hey," she murmurs
back. "You did the same thing for us, right? And we weren't half as good
company. Good dreams, 'kay?"

Kess nods slowly. "All right. Thanks." She's almost mumbling now, as she
settles on her side, head pillowed on the feathered limb curved under her,
legs drawn up almost foetally. She sighs out a breath, staring into space
before she remembers to blank her mind. Think of nothing, eencourage sleep
on that way. Thanks to drugs singing in her veins that lighten the weight
of pain, it works quickly today.

Kitty's voice is just audible around the edges, relaying the message over
the telephone. They'll let Tulio know. It's all okay. Well. Will be.