He turned, gently resting her on the bed before grabbing the guitar and taking a seat in his chair, strumming a few cords.
The cars were moving quickly, weaving past one another on empty streets, but never straying to far from the center point.
It seemed to be going smoothly, until one car caught and skidded, the tires losing way before crashing sideways into a tree on the driver's side.
Her eyes widened and she felt something in her still as she jumped down from the roof, running over and waving away the smoke, attempting to see in the window of the car.
It was hard to see. There was shattered glass and it was dark. The figure was against the wheel, head on their arm.
Her brows furrowed and she tried to wave away the smoke. She tried pulling open the passenger door, coughing slightly.
It was Gabe. He was unconscious and his prosthetic was smashed and broken. There were cuts and bruises everywhere and shards of glass in his side.
She whimpered slightly, crawling across the seat and putting her hand on his shoulder. "Gabe," she said, her voice trembling. "Gabe. Gabe. You have to wake up."
She took a deep breath, unbuckling his seat belt. "Gabe? It's me. It's Petra." She brushed back a lock of his hair distractedly as she tried to investigate the damage. "Are you okay? Can you talk to me?"
He shifted slowly, trying to open his door, not realizing that the prosthetic was sparking and broken. He shook his fine. "Fine.. Fine.. I'm fiine."
