floaty hands smoothed down the hem of her shirt with a slight shake, sapphire hues tinted with a tinge of red, rimmed by blotches of tear-stained mascara. neither of the two had seen the bliss of sleep since the mass shooting occurred, and pippa wasn’t certain if she was willing to succumb to the ignorance that slumber offered; not yet, at least. at the femme’s words, enervated lids flicker to her, clearly not phased by the shop owner’s words. ‘ elodie, i feel bad for saying this: i don’t care, ’ the cherub murmurs, timbre heavy with fatigue. the two stood at the fray of the crowd that had amassed at room 423, numerous eyes craning to see the patient inside. ‘ we just need to see if she’s okay, then we can leave. ’