She’d be just as happy to collapse on the floor, let herself slide down the wall until her ass hits the ground. That would pose the question of how she’d get up again. The world would have to stop tilting first, for sure. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—rely on the stranger whose home she’d just waltzed into. His hands are empty, but he knows this place and what’s in it. He isn’t the one about to fall over. So, no. Maybe the floor isn’t a great idea.
Caitlin looks relieved when he brings over the chair, like someone who’s been crawling in the desert spotting water. It’s quicker than him clearing off something in the living room, she can tell that much. A better option than the floor. Less trouble getting up from it. She hopes, at least. She grips the back of the chair with her free hand, uses it and her hand on the wall to step to the side of the seat. When she lets go of the wall, she wavers a moment, unsteady, before she drops into place. A very small, practically imperceptible “Thank you” escapes her as she shifts and pulls her legs in front of her.
She probably looks every bit as fragile and frail as she feels. Sure, there’s a chance she might fall out of the chair, but it’s less likely than her keeling over on her feet.
She listens to Tony with her eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning. Not intruding. Not his house. Then whose house is this? Is this all the owner’s junk? Not the point right now, Caitlin, she tells herself. She breathes out an amused huff at his question.
“I’d say the beach ran me over, not into me. I didn’t fall asleep on the beach. I don’t live anywhere near a beach.” Carefully, she cracks open one eye to look at him. “Where are we, and how do I get home?”
no subject
Caitlin looks relieved when he brings over the chair, like someone who’s been crawling in the desert spotting water. It’s quicker than him clearing off something in the living room, she can tell that much. A better option than the floor. Less trouble getting up from it. She hopes, at least. She grips the back of the chair with her free hand, uses it and her hand on the wall to step to the side of the seat. When she lets go of the wall, she wavers a moment, unsteady, before she drops into place. A very small, practically imperceptible “Thank you” escapes her as she shifts and pulls her legs in front of her.
She probably looks every bit as fragile and frail as she feels. Sure, there’s a chance she might fall out of the chair, but it’s less likely than her keeling over on her feet.
She listens to Tony with her eyes shut, willing the world to stop spinning. Not intruding. Not his house. Then whose house is this? Is this all the owner’s junk? Not the point right now, Caitlin, she tells herself. She breathes out an amused huff at his question.
“I’d say the beach ran me over, not into me. I didn’t fall asleep on the beach. I don’t live anywhere near a beach.” Carefully, she cracks open one eye to look at him. “Where are we, and how do I get home?”