She kissed him back just as the nurse walked in. "Ms. Abernathy," she began, flipping through her documents. "Your records look good; I think you're ready to go." Poppy stood up. "Pardon me, but what about my dog?" "Your dog? Oh, right. He's in the holding room. He's fine and waiting for you." Poppy exhaled, and her shoulders relaxed. She seemed to have been quietly worried about it.
"Yes, please," she said, intertwining her fingers in his. She stood up, and they headed down the hallway, their shoulders brushing. "I'm glad he's alright. I was worried about him."
"They don't feel great," she admitted. "That guy slammed me into that tree pretty hard. But I'll get over it. I've felt worse."
"You're already pretty nice to me, Craw," she said, raising an eyebrow. "With the exception of carrying me everywhere, I don't really see what more you could do. Don't worry about it."
