No, no, no. You stay and do your thing, Baby. We really are alright. I think tomorrow my limbs are going to hate me so I plan to lie in bed and make Mumsie take care of me, but we're fine. Just a little freaked. She didn't get a chance to touch either of us, I just ran. I figured...hell running was better than standing there. My lungs might hate me tomorrow too...

It really, really was. Fuck, Spectre, the things she said about James...