Mary sits on a bollard while Shannon ducks into the alimentación, blood drying on her chin and her tooth cradled in the pouch of her cheek. She brushes at her face with the sleeve of her jacket and the blood flakes away, drifting to the ground like ash.
"Got it," Shannon says, one hand burning hot on Mary's hip to steady her, the other hefting a plastic milk jug. She cracks the lid open and takes a swig before holding it out to Mary.
Mary stares blankly, her vision smearing across the translucence of the plastic. "What?"
Shannon rolls her eyes. "Spit," she explains. "I'd rather we'd been able to put the tooth back in the socket, but better a milk jug than you accidentally swallowing it."
Mary tongues the tooth out of her cheek, presses it to the inside of her pursed lips before raising the jug to her mouth and spitting into it. She holds her hand out for the cap, but Shannon takes the jug from her and closes it herself. Mary watches, a bit dumbfounded, as Shannon threads a length of paracord through the handle and knots it, as she steps forward to Mary's side and feels around at her hip.
"What are you-" she mumbles, but Shannon makes a noise of triumph, and there's the click of a carabiner gate snapping closed, the tug of weight at her gear belt.
"There, now you won't misplace it."
Mary stares down at the milk jug where it dangles suspended at her side. "Is this normal?" she asks, her head spinning at the sight of the wispy trail of blood streaking down the inside of the plastic.
Shannon shrugs. "It's not abnormal," she admits, and Mary wonders, not for the first time, what exactly Vincent has gotten her into. But the thought is pushed to the wayside by the brilliance of Shannon's grin as she holds out a hand to help her down off the bollard. "Come on, let's get back to the others. They're going to be upset enough as it is, what with us skipping out on clean-up duty. No sense making them wait even longer for us."
"'kay." Mary slips off the bollard, lists to the side at the way the movement jars her head. Shannon's other hand finds her hip, and the pressure of them bracketing her makes Mary's throat go dry around the slow trickle of blood. "Just a minute longer, maybe," she mutters, breathing through her nose as she tries her best to keep from rocking right into Shannon's arms.
"Whatever you need, Mary." Her hands are so irritatingly steady on Mary's hips. "Just let me know when you're ready."
