[ James blinks in return at the relative display of sentience. This is already going much better than that time with the wiggly acid spitting abomination. He regards her with a mix of dull curiosity and a quiet lick of fear. She reminds him of Silent Hill. She reminds him of Mary while her sickness ate her up. He breathes deep, chasing the thought away and with a nonchalant shrug (more for himself than for her), James raises the cloth up and holds it out to her. A water droplet sliding down the back of his hand and disappearing down the length of his sleeve. ]
Here. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.
no subject
Here. It's not much, but it's better than nothing.