Jordie's trying to figure out whether or not he needs medical attention; he can't think straight. He's so cold, so tired.
He's stumbling toward the Security office, bracing himself on the table as he goes, eyes on the ground.
He doesn't see
the woman nearby.
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There's a hand on his arm.
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He can't tell who she is right away.
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She's pale, her dark eyes wide, trying to catch his.
"It's me. Liz. Are you -- what's the matter?"
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