[He moves and so do her hands, in a movement she didn't know she knew to pull the air from his lungs. She's relieved when he stops himself. She doesn't want to mess up and kill him. (She doesn't want to believe someone she's let get so close could betray her so badly.) The expression on his face (shocked, a little horrified, vaguely apologetic) tugs at her heart but she locks it firmly in place.]
Where's Chekov?
[Everything else, all her tears and insecurities and trauma, can wait until she knows her friend is safe.]
no subject
Where's Chekov?
[Everything else, all her tears and insecurities and trauma, can wait until she knows her friend is safe.]