She pulls the towel off entirely and tosses it toward the corner. Then she waits.

She gasps once, twice, and then startles awake.

Kiss!

She is sure being kissed right now.

She pulls back after a moment, thumb brushing against Cara's jaw. The contact feels like coming home after a long day.

"Better?" Her voice is soft, would be almost gentle if it weren't so predatory.

Headtilt. No answer.

She traces a finger along Cara's collarbone, watching the way her eyes track the movement without really focusing. The touch leaves a trail of that pleasant guiding sensation.

Cara continues to not react to the guiding, of course.

She's kinda getting into it, fingers digging into her soft skin and leaving red raised weals of nail tracks in her sides.

Conveniently, the body of an awakening esper heals quickly - a side effect of the same arcane system that gives espers symmetrical, well-muscled, proportioned-to-their-taste bodies, and gives them the eye and hair colors they want the most. 

(Of course, that's a slow process, taking place over the course of a week. For now, it is easy to leave marks on Cara - she just lets it happen.)

She settles back on her heels, considering. The girl's eyes have that glassy quality again, pupils dilated in the dim light from the desk lamp. She pulls down the blinds and reaches over to click it off, leaving them in darkness broken only by the hallway light seeping under the door.

"You know what? Let's try something different." She stands, padding over to her desk drawer. The rustle of plastic. A lighter's click.

...She looks at the clock and then stands up, heading towards the door.

She kicks out and trips the girl but doesn't otherwise move to stop her.

-she stumbles, but doesn't fall. When she rights herself, she turns to look at Vera in confusion. "...It's been two hours?"

"So go?"

she leaves.

The room smells like sweat and fear and something else. She sits on the edge of the bed, runs a hand through her hair. The sheets are still warm.

She's been gone a while.

She should probably be tracking her down. Making sure she hasn't collapsed in a stairwell somewhere. But the dorm room is quiet, and her textbook is open on the desk, and there's a part of her that wants to see how long the girl will keep following that last instruction.

She checks the time on her phone. Flips to the next page. The chemical structures blur together.

Yeah she's not coming back on her own. 

...Is that the sound of someone talking in the hallway that she can hear with her esper hearing? An "Are you okay?", perhaps?

She closes her textbook with a sigh. The voices in the hallway are getting louder—concerned, questioning. She slips her feet back into her boots and heads for the door.

The hallway is lit by harsh fluorescents. There's a small cluster of people around a figure slumped against the wall near the communal bathroom. Of course.

"She's my"

1. "My roommate" - Simple. Clean. No one questions why I know where she is at all hours or why I'm the one handling her... episodes. Plus it's technically true, which makes the lie easier to maintain.
2. "She's my responsibility" - Vague enough to shut down follow-up questions, but heavy enough that people don't push. Implies authority without having to explain where it comes from. Perfect for when someone's being nosy.
3. "My study partner" - Academic, boring, explains the time we spend together. If anyone sees her coming and going from my room at weird hours, well, we're cramming for exams. College students do stupid things for their grades.
4. "She's mine" - Honest. Direct. Let them wonder what exactly that means. It could be fun to watch people try to figure out if we're dating or if it's something else entirely. The ambiguity is delicious.
5. "My pet project" - Technically accurate - I am studying her responses, aren't I? Sounds altruistic to anyone listening, like I'm tutoring some struggling freshman. But we both know what kind of project she really is.
6. "My sister" - Family explains everything and nothing. Why I'm protective, why I know her so well, why I'm the emergency contact. People don't question family dynamics too closely - every family has their weird shit. This causes more trouble than it's worth if she sticks around - don't say it.

f. "My sister,"

fuck fuck fuck

She pushes through. "I've got her."

She can roll this back later? Maybe?

Cara looks up at Vera.

The people around her look confused and worried. "Is she okay? She wasn't responding to our questions."

"She gets these episodes sometimes. Blood sugar thing." She crouches down, slides an arm under Cara's shoulders. The contact sends that pleasant guiding sensation through her palm. "Thanks for looking out for her. I'll get her sorted."