Bells lifts her head from my neck. Her honey-gold eyes find mine, close enough that I can see the darker amber flecks near her pupils.
"Drink," she says.
"I'm fine."
"Rex." Her voice drops. "Thirty minutes until stage. You need fuel."
"I'll drink one after the show."
She takes the shake from Phoenix's outstretched hand, cracks open a new one from the tray—dragonfruit, either because she pays attention or because it's pink—and holds it up in front of my face.
I stare at it.
Then at her.
And back at the shake.
"Turn around," I tell Phoenix and Raf.
Phoenix opens his mouth.
"Turn around."
They turn, bitching the entire time.
Bells stays where she is. On my lap, arm around my neck, those honey eyes steady and patient and completely devoid of anything that looks like pity.
"You too," I growl.
"Nope."
"Bells—"
"I'm not watching. I'm looking at the ceiling. It's… uh… beautiful." She tilts her chin up and stares at the exposed pipes overhead and the spiderwebs all over them. "Wow. Fascinating ductwork. Is that copper? Could be copper."
I look up for some reason. "It's rust."
"It's copper."
Iwantto hate her.
I want to hate herso fucking much, and I can't, and that's the worst part.
I take the shake.
I tilt my head to the left, bringing the bottle to the working corner of my mouth. The first swallow is fine. The second dribbles slightly, a thin line of pink liquid tracking down the ruined right side of my jaw.
I swipe it away with the back of my hand and a low growl.
Bells is studying the ceiling. "Are you sure it's just rust?"
I roll my eyes and drink half the bottle in careful, angled sips. It takes longer than it should. Longer than it would for anyone with a normal fucking face. But my stomach stops clenching and the dizziness I didn't realize I had slowly recedes.
I set the bottle down.
"Done," I mutter.
"Was the ductwork copper or rusted?" Raf asks the door.