<div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: comic sans ms;">That answer was not what she wanted to hear, obviously, and it drew slender brows down into a tight v above the bridge of her nose, the spike of panic they brought pushing her to turn and drop back to the floor to start counting out space to move the second desk. The number of pieces of furniture was off - at least by her standards - and it made her calculations all the harder to try and keep just right.<br/><br/>The floor was cold under her palms and knees, her attention seemingly focused on what she was doing though his words were not ignored. She heard him perfectly fine, she just chose not to say anything right then. He obviously thought she was sick and apparently was incapable of just as incapable of listening as the others. She wasn’t sick. Hurt, but not sick.<br/><br/>When the last space was counted out, she sat back on her haunches and stared at it, memorizing the exact place before slowly pushing herself up and moving to the desk, hands brushing off on her pants before dropping to the edge of the desk to start shoving it where she wanted it. There was no asking him for help this time, mute for the time being while her mind worked over everything and that little voice whispered. <br/><br/>He was trying to prove himself a good guy, was worried that she had seen something that would make her more standoffish towards him - but truth was, most of the morning was one big blank spot to her and what she did remember was fuzzy at best thanks to the pain meds and sedative. Hell, chances were good that if she did manage to get to sleep, she’d not even remember this whole conversation. <br/><br/>“Can you leave now? I want to be alone.” It was a typical reaction for her - self imposed isolation so that she didn’t have to deal with things, the only way she knew to remain calm and ensure that her world was the way it had to be. This whole place had messed her routine up so badly that it’d be days before she got every little nuance back in order - days that she didn’t want to spend here. She didn’t need doctors and nurses, she needed her place. Her things. Her life.</span></div>