he who hesitates is toast

She accepts the towels with a wry half smile, then carefully dabs at her face with the damp, warm towel. It feels good against her sore eyes, her sore mouth. She lingers with it until it's cool in her hands, grateful for the chance to hide her face, even if only for a little while.

Once it's gone cold, she sets the damp towel aside and gently blots her face dry with the other. When she lifts her glance back up to Nat, her eyes are still sore and red, but her face is a little less flushed, and the streaks of her tears are gone.