What a lovely way to burn
For all her brash words and bold attitude, even she can recognize this is more than a piddling cold. Not that it does anything to frighten her off, of course. Fear is a foreign language to her, one she doesn’t care to learn. And his noble attempts to ward her off with his dire warnings fall on deaf ears.
Well, not deaf, I suppose, given the way she snorts derisively at the comment. Just excessively stubborn.
Still, foolish bravery aside, it’s not like she planned on laying one on him or anything like that. Hell, she’s not that dumb. She might suffer from an unfortunate dearth of fear, but that doesn’t mean she’s beggin’ to get sick. And a stunt like that would be sure to do it.
Of course, if she were considering such a stunt, she’d have hella more problems than just a plague to worry about. Because, y’know, consent and all that. Besides, that’s just creepy. She has her limits, predatory creepiness being one of them.
Honestly, it’s probably a good thing he can’t get inside her head. Or at least, she sure as hell hopes he can’t. A w k w a r d.
Which is to say, it’s probably a good thing he’s consumed by a coughing fit and she has some time to sort out her decidedly wayward thoughts. When his cough finally subsides, another concerned frown is tugging at her lips, eyes narrowed as she tries to determine if he’s going to come out of it or if she needs to find some help for him. Gods, wouldn’t it just be her luck to get sucked into some ridiculous search trying to find a healer for him?
Luckily for her, he stops spasming like a chain-smoking asthmatic and recovers enough to actually take a breath. Enough to tell her his story, brief as it is. Pangea. Of course. She narrows her eyes on him, suddenly wondering if there isn’t more here she need worry about. Not that he’s in any condition to do anything dumb, like attack her. But hell, one never knows how idiotic someone might turn out to be.
Though, as it turns, he really is idiotic, just for the right reasons instead of the wrong ones. Or at least, one could suppose. If one had a conscience. Which, no matter how much she might pretend otherwise, she regrettably does. She barks out a humorless laugh when he continues, lamenting his inability to see through his nobly heroic task. “I knew he was up to no good,” she mutters, half to herself, half to him if he cared to listen, feeling rather vindicated that she’d ignored that summons like a champ.
She narrows her eyes briefly at him, considering his story for a long moment before quipping, “That’s a load of bull. Sounds like you went in there half-assed with no plan.” Blunt, as ever. But really. Nice guys finish last? No, guys who sprint off at the drop of a hat with an unbaked plan finish last. Of course, he hadn’t actually divulged a plan, but she can guess exactly what it was given what he’d already told her. I.e. there wasn’t one.
She snorts at his last warning, exactly as she’d done with his other warnings. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” she replies rather sarcastically before amending her tone into something slightly more friendly. “Element.”
She’s not totally devoid of sympathy however. He’d tried, and she supposes (a little grudgingly) that must count for something. “Did you know him?” she continues, this time a little more gently. She’s not heartless, after all. And if he’d lost a friend in all of this, she can imagine how terrible he must feel.
