What the hell is going on here? Doom snarled.
Rachel looked up. Oh, good! she said. He slipped and hit his head. I didn’t want to leave him since he was insisting on moving around when he could be grievously injured and I don’t know who to get, anyway. Can you find someone who knows first aid?
Doom blinked and tried to process her request against his unfounded expectations and to deal with the shock of someone presuming to tell him what to do.
Ean who knew better than to show weakness in front of Doom surged to his feet. I’m fine, E said a little too quickly. He’d stood too quickly, too: a staticy blur of vertigo hit him and he wobbled sideways.
Rachel, who had stood when Ean did, yelped and caught him, even as he tried to catch himself against her.
When the dizziness passed, E found himself leaning hard against a very soft portion of the woman who’s anatomy I’d made certain he was excessively aware of. For his own benefit, of course: it was well past time he got over his ex, and nothing led to a romantic sub-plot faster than sexual tension.
Oh god, E groaned at me. You’re gonna turn me into some kind of pervert.
And then he froze, eyes going wide in the horrifying realization that he’d just as far as she was concerned leveled that accusation at Rachel.