"I know. I went there first." It's just as quiet, and his glance is thoughtful as it rests on her.

Her breathing is shallow and too fast, and it hits him with the impact of a grenade. She's scared. She's scared of him, and she has every right to be.

Moving with deliberate care so as not to startle or alarm her further, he retreats all the way across her living room, giving her as much space as is possible within the confines of the apartment, and stops against a wall there. He's out of sight from the windows, but could be through one quickly if he needs to go.

Maybe he should. "Saw they treated you as well. How badly did I hurt you, Sharon?"