He noses my hair.
Yeah. Okay. We go through a series of pantomimes involving our very small vocabulary and lots of gestures. Eventually, I think he figures out that I need a few minutes to myself, and that I can't go anywhere. When I carefully shut the bathroom door, he doesn't bugle with anger or freak the fuck out on the other side. It's quiet. Relieved, I check the bathroom out and take a few moments to use the facilities. Once I'm done, I head for the big mirror behind the sinks. It's cracked and dirty, but I can still see my reflection … and I almost wish I hadn't. Man, I look rough.
The face that stares back at me is human, but barely. I look disheveled and small, and for a moment I think I'm looking at Amy. It's been so long since I've seen my reflection that I no longer recognize myself. I'm not the bright-eyed teenager I used to be. The woman that stares across from me is haunted-eyed and thin, a little scrappy, and a lot beat up.
It's not Amy, though, and my heart hurts. My sister. I hope she's okay.
The girl in the mirror's eyes well up, and I swipe at my cheeks before the tears can fall. It just leaves another dirty mark on my skin. I'm covered in enormous bruises and a thin layer of dirt. I have scratches all over, too, and my hair is a tangled snarl of leaves and drywall dust. I touch one enormous scrape and wince. It's a damn shame I don't have water to wash with or drink. The toilets were dry, and I don't even know that these sinks work. So much plumbing in Old Dallas has gone to crap without proper maintenance.
On impulse, I reach over and turn one of the rusty knobs on the row of sinks. The pipes in the walls groan and clank, and I hear Kael snort and shift his big dragon body on the other side, no doubt ready to rescue me. After a moment, water gurgles and spits forth from the faucet. It's brown and cloudy at first, but then turns brilliantly clear, and I gasp with delight. Water. Flowing, delicious water. I'm so thirsty. I cup my hands under the flow to drink, then flinch at how nasty my hands are. I need to clean up first-
The door to the bathroom flies open. It slams into the opposite wall, the subway tiles crumbling under the force. A human-sized Kael stalks in, his eyes black, teeth bared.
"It's okay," I tell him, taking a step backward. "It's just water. I promise. Nothing's wrong."
He looks at me, then at the spraying tap. His nose twitches, and it's almost comical to see him realize that he's panicking over nothing. He leans over the water, sniffs it again, and then straightens. "Clau-dah," he rumbles in a deep voice.
"Right here," I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest with amusement. "Not letting all that killer water get me."
He reacts to my smile with one of his own and moves toward me with a possessive prowl that makes my skin prickle in ways that are not entirely driven by fear. The big, clawed hand brushes down my arm. "Clau-dah Kael."
"Yeah, yeah. Clau-dah's not going anywhere without Kael," I say, shivering at the gentle touch. I step aside and gesture at the water. "Clau-dah just wants a drink and a quick bath, if that's all right." I take another step toward the water and mimic washing, and when he doesn't stop me, I put my hands back under the tap.
Oh god, it feels amazing. The water is cool and crisp, and I scrub at my hands and arms to clean them off, and when the filth is gone, I cup my hands and drink mouthful after mouthful until I can't drink anymore. There's a rack of old paper towels nearby, the stack puffy and warped from exposure to the elements, but I grab a few anyhow and wet them down, then scrub at my filthy body.
In the mirror, I can see Kael watching me with interest. After a moment, he moves forward and cups a handful of water, then gently pours it down my arm.
"Yup," I tell him, doing my best to ignore his movements. I shiver because it's that weird mixture of fear and enjoyment again. I both love and hate that he wants to take care of me. I hate that I'm so lonely that even a dragon's attentions are exciting. I need to stay focused, though. I have water here, and I want to finish my quick bath before I get interrupted. "I'm cleaning off, because I'm gross."
He watches me, then touches my wet arm, brushing his fingertips over my skin. "Clau-dah."
I freeze, pausing in my scrubbing. The tone of his voice makes my hackles rise in awareness. Goosebumps prickle all over me. There had been an utterly husky note in his voice just then. I glance over at him, but he simply reaches for the paper towels I hold in my hand and begins to gently wash my arm. His strokes over my skin are soft, loving, and he's careful to avoid my wounds.