Yeahh… ( he gives in to the urge to run his hand over the tattoo, feeling for anything under the skin. ) But how? No one could have broken in while we were asleep and changed it.
Maybe. ( he rubs rather hard at his skin with his thumb. ) It's not sore, and I can't feel anything underneath. I met a woman who more or less wanted to cut hers off.
She did still had both arms last night… ( giving her a quizzical look at her admission of stalking, and btw he totally slipped out at 2 am last night to meet strange women and probably hadn't thought to mention it. )
You know me, I love mad women. ( dryly, and he gives in to a growing urge to flop — okay, more like list — until he's lying on his back sideways on the bed. despite the joke, there's evident frustration in his voice. )
Her name's Johanna, and she's a mess. But she might've been right about the tattoos.
[ at least they're in agreement, then. not that amy expected anything else. her hand returns to his wrist, though, thumb tracing back and forth over the tattoo. ]
no subject
no subject
I did speak to Petrelli about helping out in medical.
no subject
[ no one's mentioned that. ]
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
[ well, she's got nothing better to do, does she? than stalking. ]
no subject
Her name's Johanna, and she's a mess. But she might've been right about the tattoos.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject