He leans down to the sofa, touching her shoulder.
She awakens violently. Her voice rips apart the silence, her arm winging in an arc that cracks against the side of his head.
The stinging impact brings her fully awake and she rises to see him hunched away from her, one hand raised between her and the mask. She sits, breathing, feeling the shout still in her throat. She watches him.
He moves, straightening from his awkward pose. He takes a step away to face her, murmuring distantly polite apology.
She watches him.
He takes his leave, sketching a small bow out of habit and disappearing down the corridor.
She looks down, seeing the blood on the floor where he stood. Her eyes follow the shining drops marking his departure on the flagstones.
She does not apologise.
...He never wanted her to.