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She's already opened her mouth to throw a sassy come back about how did she look like she felt, when he clarified. Her mouth snapped shut, and she fell silent.

She continued the silence for far, far too long.

"I'm fine." She lied, her head turning away from where he was. "Why?"

not my night

"I wasn't sick." Maebe grumbled out unhappily. "It's complicated. Long talk, remember?" But like hell was she going to get into all of that now. Not until she knew she was still whole. Not until she could see his face.

"What chips are you eating.." She muttered, as an easy topic change to keep the heartache away. "You don't look stupid without a beard. You look better with a beard. There's a difference. That's just my opinion. And of course, my opinion is all that matters."

not my night

She couldn't see, but he still moved his cap. "Hell, yer right. Sawry, yer grace, I'll try t'grow it back fast s'I can." Bossy was a good sign. He stuck to that and circumvented the anxiety-waking reminder about the future.

Pulling up a chair, Dawson pulled the bag open and placed it under Maebe's nose, letting her sniff it out for herself: cool ranch. "Call it an apology gift," he said sheepishly. "Remember a while back how ya said I had ta promise not ta shave my chest? Well, uh...Beard's not the only thing wacko me took the razor to..."

not my night

She couldn't smell through her nose, but she heard the sound of the chips underneath her and grabbed them with lightning force, crushing them in her hands. She did not cease once she had them - she continued to crush the bag in what looked like a show of violence, destroying the chips until they were all but crumbs.

And then she tried to eat them. "Can't open my mouth much," She explained, as she tilted her head back and knocked a few of the crumbs between her lips. She didn't chew them, she just let the mess of delicious cool ranch chip mush in her mouth. It was still good. Just less satisfying of an experience.

She crunched the bag again, but this time was out of anger. "Nooooo." She whined, wiping one of her hands on her blanket before reaching out towards him. "You son of a b***h, give it here." She had to feel the loss in order to mourn it fully.

every way but forward

For just a second eyes narrowed as she digested that she had skin like a creepy ten year old boy who she vaguely remembered as locking himself in a locker and refused to bust his way out. "That just makes me feel like Hannibal Lecter when I talk about eliminating the competition." She whined. "You win this round, Maebe Grace, but I'm working on my next victory." Which would probably never happen but it never hurt to keep trying.

Story of her ******** life.

The hand not already holding Maebe's came to rest over the other woman's wrist for warmth and reassurance. "You probably didn't want anyone to see you like this. You know I can't not be here, even if for a little while. I need to know you're okay." She'd spent most of the attack on the island curled up in a ball, sobbing and hallucinating. Not something Cami was particularly proud of but there were worse things. She hadn't been set on fire this time. Being set on fire was a hell of a yardstick for personal trauma.

Pulling herself back into the moment she went on a bit awkwardly. "You will be okay, right?"

every way but forward

Even if she didn't want Cami to see her like this, it was obvious she was glad that she was here. Maebe was still too sleepy to really appreciate it, but being sleepy around Cami wasn't the worst thing in the world.

"Sure, of course. You know me. I bounce right back." She had no idea if she was really okay or not, but what answer did Cami truly expect from her? This was the least she could do.

"I've been getting that question a lot. I learned one good thing out of all of this; apparently there are a lot of people worried about my pretty little face. I can't blame them. It's like hearing the Mona Lisa was destroyed. It's a great loss."

not my night

He wisely chose not to verbalize an answer to what he wasn't sure was a joke or not; instead, a placating whine for mercy was made.

"It ain' bad," Dawson tried to convince her. "You only had that one bite. I tried tellin' 'em I didn' need me a pad fer that nibble, but y'know--paranoid n' infections n' all that. Only feels worse 'cause ya can' see it."

Peeling her hand away, he let it sit in his palm and pat the top of it with his other hand in reassurance. "Ain' me we gotta worry about here. How ya been feelin'?"