He was awfully ungrateful, for a man who had just been rescued and hauled to safety by a girl half his size. Even if he did think it was "hot." She retracted her hand with a scoff. "No shit it hurts. What the ####, Kane!" It was just like him, to refuse help like this, to crack jokes and push her away at the moment he obviously needed her most. Tovah straightened, crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw going uneven under her scowl. The lightning bouncer crackled just over her shoulder, as if channeling her mood. It was amazing how bad Kane looked, for someone so beautiful. Her narrowed eyes drifted over his various injuries as he tilted his head back, the blood that had been collecting on his chin beginning a steady drip down his neck. Tovah resisted the urge to wipe it away with her thumb – he'd made it pretty clear she was the last person he wanted touching him. Their eyes met when he deigned to speak again, but his were unfocused. Hazy. She wondered, absurdly, if that was what he looked like blinking awake in the morning, bleary beneath those long eyelashes. She wondered, more sanely, how much he'd had to drink before they'd started out on this misadventure. If this a concussion talking. Either way, she was pissed. And her feelings were hurt, if she was being honest. "Yeah? What is there to ruin, exactly? This chummy friendship we have, where we braid each other's hair and tell each other everything?" On the one hand, she meant it, and on the other she immediately regretted saying it out loud. It was hard to tell if his wince was from her words, or the swelling. She shook her head, rolled her eyes. There was nothing to ruin, as far as he was concerned – she was nothing to him. Nothing more than a roommate and a drinking buddy. But, damnit, that was worth something to her. "#### that." She spat, stepping into the space between his splayed knees so she could properly stare down at him, so she could make 100% sure he could see the aggravation on her face. "No. I will not stand there while some dickhead pummels you into the floor. Not ever. Don't you ####ing get it?" Her arms unlaced so they could gesture emphatically at the cold, empty night around them. Her hair caught in the breeze and blew tendrils across her face, but she was too numb to everything outside this moment to notice. "I don't care what you did! I don't care! I don't care if you banged his wife or ran over his cat or whatever it is you did. Whatever you think you did. There is nothing you could say to me that would change the way I–" 

Her breath caught on her teeth, and her eyes darted quickly away, jaw clenching. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "I'm no angel, either, in case you haven't noticed. And frankly, I wouldn't even ask, I'd leave your business your business, if I weren't...worried." She stared at the middle distance, as the ground, at the mere inches between them, at the empty space behind her where Sparky had been. Damn, he'd picked a really great time to leave them alone. As far as confessions went, this one was pretty weak – but there was so much more tied up in that word than the subtext. And now there was no neutral third party to break up the tension hanging over their heads like a cartoon anvil. "There, okay? I'm ####ing worried about you."
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