He felt before he saw.

Something smooth brushed his lips, something rough covered his feet, something sharp poked his head.

And kept poking.

He opened his eyes.

The smooth was Katrina, eyes wet, squeezed.

The rough was the blanket. It smelled like cheap lotion.

The sharp was a wound under a bandage on his head.

Fell, hit it on a mule, a pool, something, somewhere. Katrina looked very pretty. Her face was flushed, almost flustered, almost blushed. She'd received a blood transfusion. Kip figured it was the light, though he'd never seen anyone so pretty in fluorescent.

She sure is pretty.

A nurse glided by.

"Hi."

Dry lips cracked open. "Hi."

"Thanks."

Dry lips cracked smile. "Yeah."

"I love you."

Dry lips cracked shut for an unnoticed moment. Eyes flicked to arms, to hands, to arms, to eyes.

Do I?

"Love you."