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The apartment he found himself in was homey but not cramped. She made it her own with modest decorations but it wasn't gaudy or overdone. He felt safe here and it had been a long time since he'd felt safe anywhere. He glanced around only momentarily before she came back with the first aid kit. He couldn't help but watch her as she worked on his arm. She was so gentle, a natural at caring for other people. He wondered if she had a lot of friends, anyone to look out for her. Finally she smiled at him and said that she moved to America and was still working on friends and English. He nodded. "You're doing great. At least you're putting yourself out there, learning something new." He knew that wasn't easy. She seemed excited when he spoke French back to her, her very demeanor getting lighter and his lips tugged into a bigger smile. When he teased her about the alcohol, she told him she had a Pinot Gris if he survived and he chuckled. "Fair enough." When she asked if he was ready, he clenched his jaw and nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be." He watched as she gingerly poured the alcohol and a silent groan left his lips as he looked away while it burned and frothed on his wound. He stayed still though, glancing down at the floor. "Sorry about your floor." He murmured. Once she was done with the alcohol, she grabbed some bandage and gauze and he steeled himself, knowing pressure probably wasn't going to feel too good on it either. |