[ with the blanket snug around them and their limbs still locked, boothill lies there in silence with her, allowing space for her to cry or speak or fall asleep. his hand runs over her back in soothing strokes, and he presses more kisses over her forehead, her damp cheeks, her closed eyelids.

the brain soup is now less soupy... he can hear in her voice that her mind's a little more clear. that's good.

he pauses after her thanks. then, quietly: ]

Just a magnet for trouble, ain't ya?

[ teasing a little, but it quickly dies away. he tightens his hold around her a little bit. the emotions are fear, guilt, sorrow, and worry. ]

I didn't save ya' from nothin'. ...Not like this place would let me even if I tried.