She frowned, but went over to the fridge obediently. "Did she hit you with that too? Or just the whip?"
She pulled an apple out of her fridge, her shoulders tight. "Hm," she murmured nervously, going over to grab a paring knife to cut pieces of apple, her brows furrowing.
She looked up at him with a smile, tilting her head. "Of course, Abes. Everything's fine. I'm just a little... you know. Wrung out. I'm sure you're feeling the same, right?"
She laughed slightly, shaking her head. "You have enough to worry about, Abel. I'm your friend, not something else to add to the list."
He frowned. "That doesn't stop me from worrying about you. I don't where the line is drawn between 'friend' and 'something I don't have to worry about.'"
She raised an eyebrow playfully, tilting her head. "When you were being tortured less than 24 hours ago, I think you have a right to focus on your own *squee!*."
"Yeah, but we aren't being tortured now. Nor did that mean I still didn't worry about you. I don't have a one track mind."
“You’re very sweet,” she said, looking down at her apple again. “But you don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
She squinted up at him playfully. “I didn’t say that you can’t be worried. I just said you shouldn’t be. Look at me! I’m perfect!” Her tone turned even more sarcastic. “You said so yourself!”
She squinted at him. "You can do more things with two metal legs than most people can do with two flesh ones."
