She rolls her eyes when he pointedly remains, to the degree that she grabs hold of the bed with her good hand and uses the leverage to foist herself up, taking a few steps in his direction. She holds up the bad hand, shrugging. "Broken," she says, gesturing to her neck. "Strangled. Bruises." It's easy to pretend that this is a checklist, that she can remove herself from it.

"Rory's running scans to see if it's affected the cancer," she says, arms crossed over her torso as she comes to a stop three feet from him.