[ she rattles on, more than he asked for and more than she probably needs to say, mostly because she realizes she hasn't really talked to anyone about all of this yet. instead, it's just been building, an unsettling, uncomfortable realization that has built up over the last few days. she knows she isn't the only one, knows that cassian brought back one of these mannequins with him too, and that coupled with all the stories, the things she's heard from people at the diner and outside of it...
logan didn't ask for this, and the fact that something she's done (whether that's the fact this mannequin followed her home at all, the fact that she walked in watching that mannequin beating him over the head, the fact that she hadn't warned him this might be going on...) has put him in this place at all wrings at her gut. she feels sick, honestly, reaching for his forehead and watching the glass all but jump from his skin, her eyes a bit wide as it happens in front of her, in real time, close enough that she can really see.
karen bites at her lower lip, realizing that she's too late again, when he lifts his hand - shows off the more substantial piece wedged into the muscle of his palm. it's- her stomach twists, her first thought thinking hospital, but when her eyes meet his she realizes that isn't really the case here, is it?
logan is giving her something to do, something she'd just asked for, and there's something in the way he's looking at her that tells her normally he wouldn't have offered even this. so instead of getting too wrapped up in it, karen swallows, nods, and pulls one of the towels she keeps in the closet. her next glance to him is apologetic, a kind of 'i know this is about to hurt' and she reaches in with the fabric to get a hold on the wedge of glass and pull it free. it feels... it feels like something else, the way her left hand holds the back of his larger one, gently, cupping his knuckles, the callouses on the back of his hand, and then digging into the meat of it. it isn't until the glass is out of him that she watches it happen, the way the tissue stitches back together, and once it's done, she can't help how her eyes linger, and then how she runs a finger - gently, almost in awe - across where there had been a piece of glass instead of skin. his hand is warm, she notices, and the skin soft in his palm. not new, exactly, but still.
karen takes a breath and realizes he's said something, it knows me. it's not any better. ]
Is that why you're here? Did it contact you?
[ logan moves, then - closing the door behind her to make sure no one comes peeking out of their apartments to try and get a better idea of what's happening. it's not until after the door is closed that she realizes how much she hadn't been thinking about it. she blinks, and he's already rubbing at the back of his neck, his hand already healed and karen is still holding the bloody fragment.
she exhales, and sets that and the towel in the small trash can near the door. ]
You're kidding, right? [ her eyes glance back to her room, and she hates it - hates how disappointed she feels seeing the glass shards of the whiskey bottle on the floor. but she shakes her head. ] I brought back some kind of violent think that I'm pretty sure just attacked you, and you're trying to apologize? Come on. [ a beat, and then she finally drops her other hand from his. ]
no subject
logan didn't ask for this, and the fact that something she's done (whether that's the fact this mannequin followed her home at all, the fact that she walked in watching that mannequin beating him over the head, the fact that she hadn't warned him this might be going on...) has put him in this place at all wrings at her gut. she feels sick, honestly, reaching for his forehead and watching the glass all but jump from his skin, her eyes a bit wide as it happens in front of her, in real time, close enough that she can really see.
karen bites at her lower lip, realizing that she's too late again, when he lifts his hand - shows off the more substantial piece wedged into the muscle of his palm. it's- her stomach twists, her first thought thinking hospital, but when her eyes meet his she realizes that isn't really the case here, is it?
logan is giving her something to do, something she'd just asked for, and there's something in the way he's looking at her that tells her normally he wouldn't have offered even this. so instead of getting too wrapped up in it, karen swallows, nods, and pulls one of the towels she keeps in the closet. her next glance to him is apologetic, a kind of 'i know this is about to hurt' and she reaches in with the fabric to get a hold on the wedge of glass and pull it free. it feels... it feels like something else, the way her left hand holds the back of his larger one, gently, cupping his knuckles, the callouses on the back of his hand, and then digging into the meat of it. it isn't until the glass is out of him that she watches it happen, the way the tissue stitches back together, and once it's done, she can't help how her eyes linger, and then how she runs a finger - gently, almost in awe - across where there had been a piece of glass instead of skin. his hand is warm, she notices, and the skin soft in his palm. not new, exactly, but still.
karen takes a breath and realizes he's said something, it knows me. it's not any better. ]
Is that why you're here? Did it contact you?
[ logan moves, then - closing the door behind her to make sure no one comes peeking out of their apartments to try and get a better idea of what's happening. it's not until after the door is closed that she realizes how much she hadn't been thinking about it. she blinks, and he's already rubbing at the back of his neck, his hand already healed and karen is still holding the bloody fragment.
she exhales, and sets that and the towel in the small trash can near the door. ]
You're kidding, right? [ her eyes glance back to her room, and she hates it - hates how disappointed she feels seeing the glass shards of the whiskey bottle on the floor. but she shakes her head. ] I brought back some kind of violent think that I'm pretty sure just attacked you, and you're trying to apologize? Come on. [ a beat, and then she finally drops her other hand from his. ]
I'm sorry. For whatever that thing did.