"...have been told that when this happens you'll want some water," Dinah says, turning away to a carrafe and glass on the table covered in pill bottles and assorted hospital paraphrenalia.
"There're drugs too. So let me know when you start coming out of that morphine haze and I'll knock you out."
Steph considers this, too, and eventually nods gratefully.
"Don't want to wake up properly," she mutters, guiltily. "All this is - my fault."
If she stays curled up in the nice, friendly haze, she doesn't have to actually think about that. And if she doesn't think about it, then she can keep talking to Dinah without that whole crushing guilt thing.
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"Hey," says she. "You're awake."
Well done, Dinah.
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"App-- ugh." Her throat feels gross. "Apparently. You ...?"
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"There're drugs too. So let me know when you start coming out of that morphine haze and I'll knock you out."
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"Don't want to wake up properly," she mutters, guiltily. "All this is - my fault."
If she stays curled up in the nice, friendly haze, she doesn't have to actually think about that. And if she doesn't think about it, then she can keep talking to Dinah without that whole crushing guilt thing.
Reply
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