[ marta knows better than to assume his promise of protection had extended anywhere past the inconvenience of her silly little affliction. that was what she'd come to him about, and that was what he'd told her he'd help her with. that already had been a big ask, from marta who so rarely wants to be another person's burden to worry over. the last time someone had made her problems his... well. it hadn't ended well.

she has no reason to imagine any other time will be any different. ]

No... just this.

[ even the cut feels so insignificant. it looks worse than it is, the laceration just deep enough that the initial blood flow painted the side of her face. but already it had stopped, and in the end it's nothing at all compared to what she'd seen. ]

I don't know why I went out there, I — I was just in the way.

[ she's talking more to fill in the gaps of silence. when it had once been a familiar friend it feels like a stranger now, judging her in its emptiness. scolding her for forgetting her place.

andy had picked herself up from the attack like nothing had happened and — and maybe that should matter. maybe that should be enough. but she fell because of marta. this blood is still literally on her hands.

she looks up at him, searching for something she can't quite name yet. when she talks again, her voice is a soft crack of a whisper, broken before it even had a chance to form. ]

I'd never seen so much violence before.