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Seeing his his reaction to it made her want to see it, and she glanced around his room for a mirror, then frowned when she didn't see one. She could only see a small corner of the wound if she looked down at her shoulder, and doing so pulled at the torn skin on her back, so it wasn't really worth trying. "It's that bad, huh? I can't see it." She took the bottle, frowning down at it. "I can feel it though." She took another drink, longer this time, and managed to sallow it down without choking, but barely. She did grimace, but that was more for the taste. "Do you have a mirror?"

Another snort followed his parroted echo of her earlier words, and a venomous look crossed her face before giving way to weary exhaustion. "A broadsword with teeth." Teeth that had torn through her flesh as easily as mist. Teeth that had pressed into her chin and forced her head up so she could stare into green eyes that were no longer familiar.

She took another drink, and was relieved by the warm spread of subtle tingles that were beginning to climb up her legs. This, she reasoned, was the whiskey doing it's job. It certainly didn't take much.

The sudden sympathy made her sigh, and she glanced up at him through a fringe of pale bangs. His expression was hard to read.

She took the mirror and moved so the light was hitting her arm, but she paused there and glanced up at him. The endearment pulled at things low in her stomach, but that wasn't what kept her from raising the mirror.

Did she want to see? She'd thought so, but.. "Gross?" Her brows pinched, and she rolled her lower lip between her teeth to wet it.

Seeing it wouldn't make it hurt less, it wouldn't make the feeling return to her arm, and it certainly wasn't going to give her mobility in her hand again. Time would, hopefully.

Her breath caught as her chest tightened, and fear rolled over her again at the possibility of there being any permanent damage to her arm. How was she going to fight one handed? How was she going to survive as a hunter if she was crippled? The Sun's wouldn't keep her, what use was she?

Her thin chest was rising and falling in rapid little breaths, and all at once the situation was all too familiar to her as well. The room was getting hot, her vision was narrowing down.. "********!" All at once she retreated back from the edge of the bed to place her back against the wall. Legs tucked up to her chest. The bottle had been left on the ground, but she had a white knuckled death grip on the mirror. Her hand was shaking.

She had to look. Not because it would change anything, but because she couldn't let herself crumble into the raising panic that was threatening to send her into an anxiety attack. The mirror came up, and she opened her eyes, slowly at first, then completely as she took in the ruin of her shoulder.

Rep's voice was echoing in her mind, and she gave a small whimper as Taym begin prying her fingers off the mirror. Head shaking in small, rapid jerks as she looked up at him. "What if it is as bad as it looks, Taym? I don't want to put down." Likely that comment wouldn't make a whole lot of sense to him, but the panicked hitch in her voice was probably a clear enough message.

It was with obvious hesitation that she moved away from the wall at his beckoning, and it took more will power then was pretty to sit still so he could tape the coverings back in place over the wound. Well, not still, she squirmed and winced and made little pain sounds, but at least she didn't jerk away.

When he was finished she leaned leaned forward to grab the bottle from where she'd left it, and she tucked into the hollow formed by legs crossed indian style in front of her. A questioning thought was sent Warrick's way, and he gave her a soothing rumble in response. He was working even now to help mend the damage faster then was humanly normal.

She still had her doubts, understandably, and those doubts were very apparent on her face.

With as stressed as she was feeling, it was very easy to let autopilot take over. He asked a question, and she would answer it. It was automatic. She got as far as the first letter before snapping her teeth shut around the rest of the name and instead shaking her head.

Nope. Nope, she was not going to open that can of worms again. No sir.

Her fingers put up very little resistance as he took the bottle from her, and she watched him mutely as he tried to reassure her. "I can't feel my arm, and I can't move my hand." She wasn't really trying to argue with him, she was just having a hard time accepting that everything was going to be fine.

She took the bottle and immediately brought it up to her lips for a drink. Having never been so much as buzzed, let alone drunk, it was hard to tell how much the whiskey was effecting her. If the vague warm fuzzy feeling was anything to go to, she would say it was starting to. With every drink it felt like her mounting panic was slipping away, and as that fear faded she just looked tired.

His question had her shaking her head, and she replaced the bottle in her lap. "They said it was hard to know what, if any, permanent damage I'd have until it was on it's way to healing." It sounded so ominous. "They didn't sound grim, so.. I don't know." Pale brows pinched, and she took another drink. The more she swallowed the less it seemed to burn. Or maybe her throat was getting numb.

All of a sudden she really didn't want to think about it anymore. Huffing a sigh she offered the bottle back to Taym. "Can you teach me a new word?" Abrupt subject change.

Slim fingers curled around her ankle. It seemed she was in need of something to hold onto, and anything would do at this point.

There were many things she was likely to poke fun at him about, but his vocabulary was never one of them. She found his use of unusual words interesting, and enjoyed that he'd tell her what they meant when she asked him. So far she hadn't gotten much of a chance to use anything he'd taught her yet, but she was filing them away for later.

It was her turn to be startled when he quoted back at her, and she grinned at him. The first real smile that'd crossed her lips all day.

She shook her head at his question. The roots of the word were familiar, but she'd never heard them together. "No, enlighten me please."

And then she was laughing, and it felt so good after everything she'd been through that day. "Is that a lot?" she handed the bottle back, eyes still shiny with humor at having been called a midget. She couldn't even argue with him. She didn't even try.

He moved, and she stretched her legs out to hook her ankles over one of the crossbars on his chair. Her preference would have been to tuck her toes under his leg. If it had been any other person in the chair that's what she would have done, but this was Taym, and he didn't respond well to casual touch, and she didn't think she could take him jerking away from her just that moment. It would have crushed something inside her, and all the gradual work that'd been done to help improve her mood would be for nothing.

"My legs feel kind of tingly, and my body in general feels heavier," she started to shrug, then stopped herself when it pulled at her wound. Instead she went quiet to listen to his explanation of lethalogica, filing away the definition, as well as the additional notes on the roots of the word and their actual meanings.

This was nice. Aside from her injury and how awful the day had been up to this point, now was actually pretty relaxing. The whiskey had indeed managed to take the edge off the pain, and what had been a sharp grinding pain was now reduced to a mostly tolerable dull ache. "What else you got?" She prompted, obviously fishing for him to continue talking, to continue providing her with adequate and informative distractions.