Yeah there are two by the desk.

She's busy working what mantra would be best for the occasion.

She'll head over to the desk and open both the windows there.

Good girl!

But will she get a treat for it.

Fingers in her mouth Friday it is.

Mmmm, guiding...

Ugh. She should really focus, but it's nice.

It is! One of the best sensations. 

Is Vera looking at Cara, perchance?

"Clean the mess," she says, her other hand gesturing vaguely at the vomit-stained carpet. "There's cleaning supplies under the sink in the bathroom."

She doesn't remove her fingers, just stands there using Cara's mouth as an anchor point while she tries to think through what comes next.

???Waugh!

She - fails to suppress the change in body language, as she comes back into focus.

She looks over at the bathroom door, and then at Vera, and then back at the bathroom again.

She withdraws her fingers immediately, wiping them on her jeans. Of course. Of fucking course she's back.

"What?" Her voice comes out defensive, sharp. "You need to clean. That's what you do when there's a mess."

She can't look at Cara's face. Can't handle whatever expression is there - confusion, disgust, fear. Instead she stares at the wall past her shoulder.

"Unless you want to leave it there to really complete the ambiance."

...if she tried to jump out the window - Espers are stronger and have fast reaction times, she wouldn't make it. 

She wants to scream, but it doesn't seem like it will be very useful. She wants to cry, but that will just make Vera mad. And it's not like she's going to exist long enough to get to say anything real, so.

She turns away and walks off to the bathroom, misery radiating from her body language - 

- until it's gone, along with the rest of her.

Vinegar. Water. Washtowels.

She watches Cara flicker out again, like someone turning off a light switch. There and then not. Person and then thing.

She sits down heavily on the bed, puts her head in her hands. The room still spins slightly but it's manageable now. Everything is manageable when she doesn't have to look at Cara's face.

She should be planning. Should be figuring out how to handle the rest of the week, how to keep Cara stable enough to survive awakening, how to explain any of this if someone asks. But all she can do is sit here and listen to the sound of cleaning supplies being gathered in the bathroom, mechanical and efficient.

At least when she's null, she's useful.

Soooo useful! Does whatever you tell her to.

Vinegar goes onto the carpet, mixed with water, everywhere the vomit touched. Then blot it with the rags, gently, repeatedly.

She watches Cara work with a detached sort of fascination. The methodical movements, the complete absence of complaint or hesitation. Just pure obedience.

This is what she wanted, isn't it? Someone who does what they're told without questions or judgment or those awful concerned looks.

Her head throbs. She needs more contact, but she can't bring herself to move from the bed. Can't bring herself to touch the empty thing scrubbing vomit from her carpet.

"When you're done with that," she says, voice flat, "come here."

She does a thorough job, so it takes her a few minutes, but eventually she finishes and comes to Vera.

(The shirt she borrowed is stained on the right shoulder with blood. Deeply inconsiderate of her.)

She reaches out automatically, pulling Cara down to sit next to her on the bed.

She notices the blood on the borrowed shirt. Her bite mark. Right.

"Take off the shirt," she says, because she can't stand looking at it. "You're getting blood on my clothes."

As if that's the problem here. As if any of this makes sense.

She struggles a bit with removing it (on autopilot, she still tries to take off shirts in a way optimized for oversized unisex tshirts, which works poorly for women's clothing), but it doesn't take too long for her to figure it out.

Now there is a topless Cara sitting next to Vera on her bed, holding a bloodied borrowed shirt.

She takes the shirt from Cara's hands and tosses it onto the floor with the rest of the mess she'll deal with later. Her fingers find the bite mark on Cara's shoulder, tracing the edge where the skin is broken.

"This needs to be cleaned," she says, though she makes no move to do anything about it. Just keeps touching the wound she made, feeling the slight warmth where blood is still seeping.

It actually might not! Awakening espers are harder to infect, in addition to healing faster than normal.  

But Vera might not know this, and Cara isn't available to correct her at the moment~

She leans down and runs her tongue over the wound, tasting copper and salt. The blood is still warm.

"There," she says, pulling back. "Cleaned."

She knows that's not how it works. Knows she's probably making it worse. But the taste lingers on her tongue and she can't bring herself to care.

The scrap of guiding is probably good for Cara, at least.

(Though, happily for Vera, it's not enough to risk waking her up.)

She pulls Cara closer, arranging her like a doll until she's lying with her head in Vera's lap. The position gives her easy access to touch - hair, shoulders, the curve of her spine.

"Stay like this," she says quietly. "Just... be still."

She cards her fingers through Cara's hair, the repetitive motion soothing. The room still smells terrible, but with the windows open it's getting better. The carpet's mostly clean. Everything is under control.

She can pretend, for a little while, that this is sustainable.

Cara's good at staying still! She barely breathes.