"Okay." Wrath almost doesn't notice, that anything's all that off. Maine is quiet, but Maine's always quiet. And he's still letting her lean against him, which is a big deal. But it's his knuckles that eventually give it away. Wrath likes hands, likes trying to draw them, so she notices things about them.
Which is a little worrying, even if he's acting okay.
Wrath carefully takes his hand, turning it so she can examine it better. The dark red of early bruises--she knows those really well, thanks--and a few little splits in the skin. Definitely different, though; between when he left and when he came back, he must have hit something, really hard. She smooths her hand very lightly over his knuckles and curls her fingers around his. (And that's okay, right? She and North held hands a lot, back when they were just friends. It doesn't have to be more than that or mean anything else. It's just a way of telling someone you're there with them.)
170 - evening -
Which is a little worrying, even if he's acting okay.
Wrath carefully takes his hand, turning it so she can examine it better. The dark red of early bruises--she knows those really well, thanks--and a few little splits in the skin. Definitely different, though; between when he left and when he came back, he must have hit something, really hard. She smooths her hand very lightly over his knuckles and curls her fingers around his. (And that's okay, right? She and North held hands a lot, back when they were just friends. It doesn't have to be more than that or mean anything else. It's just a way of telling someone you're there with them.)