She eventually comes back to the locker room, though Brett is fighting to keep consciousness and has no idea how many minutes or hours its been.
She kneels in front of him, takes him by the shoulders and sits him against the wall. He's too weak and muzzy to fight it.
He considers her face instead.
He's never seen it from up close is the thing.
And focusing on something diminishes both the pain and the fatigue.
He gazes at the lips around the lollipop, the moles spread everywhere, the bored eyes, the scars on the textured skin.
He misses the yellow flower she lits on fire.
Any rational thought is gone when she rashly presses the ashes on his bleeding abdomen.
He roars at first, then shuts his fangs deep into the nearest thing to his mouth.
Her shoulder, that is.
Then, it all goes black.