It's not what she's expecting, exactly, but it's nice, more comforting than a kiss on the lips would be even if that would be nice in another way, and Blue wraps one arm around Tris' waist for the moment, taking a breath to let her body acknowledge that she's not in any danger. And hopefully to let Tris know that she appreciates it.
"You don't have to do that," Blue says in an embarrassed exhale, though tea sounds nice. Just sitting around sounds nice. She can't deny that, shaken up as she is, there's a little part of her that doesn't mind the idea of being fussed over. A much louder part of her personality wants to protest it, though: it's a thing they share, both liking to fix things and hating to be the one being fixed. "Maybe tea," she relents, and squeezes Tris' hand back. "I'll just --"
She gestures at the bathroom and wanders over. They've seen each other in various states of undress before, and slept in the same place, too, but they've never used each other's shower. It feels a little oddly invasive, despite everything: this certainly isn't how she imagined it ever happening, if it did. Blue peels off jeans and shirt, hissing a little when fabric comes unstuck from scrapes: she sits down for a second on the edge of the tub, letting the pain subside and contemplating the bending of an arm required to unlatch a bra.
"Come on, Sargent," she mutters to herself, and does the rest in one go, stepping in and bracing a little as the water hits.
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"You don't have to do that," Blue says in an embarrassed exhale, though tea sounds nice. Just sitting around sounds nice. She can't deny that, shaken up as she is, there's a little part of her that doesn't mind the idea of being fussed over. A much louder part of her personality wants to protest it, though: it's a thing they share, both liking to fix things and hating to be the one being fixed. "Maybe tea," she relents, and squeezes Tris' hand back. "I'll just --"
She gestures at the bathroom and wanders over. They've seen each other in various states of undress before, and slept in the same place, too, but they've never used each other's shower. It feels a little oddly invasive, despite everything: this certainly isn't how she imagined it ever happening, if it did. Blue peels off jeans and shirt, hissing a little when fabric comes unstuck from scrapes: she sits down for a second on the edge of the tub, letting the pain subside and contemplating the bending of an arm required to unlatch a bra.
"Come on, Sargent," she mutters to herself, and does the rest in one go, stepping in and bracing a little as the water hits.