“You’re so hurt you can barely walk. If they find you, you won’t be able to run.”
“Sick of running.”
I suppose she has been doing a lot of that in this story, both in and out of deadly situations.
Literally and metaphorically.
He stood and followed me. He got ahead of me despite the fact that he was probably hurt worse than I was. I ducked around him, and he pushed me against a wall. “Don’t do this. If you want to get revenge on those guys, if you want to help your people, you need to stop, rest, recover and plan.”
Stop. Rest. Recover. That’s really what she’s been needing to do for so long.
I struggled briefly, but the pain in my ribs and the burn on my back made that far more trouble than it was worth, and it was already pretty futile.
Yeah, no, I don’t think you’re going to overpower Grue physically.
Hated this. Hated feeling weak, even if it was Grue I was comparing myself to.
My bugs alerted me to movement from Genesis. I didn’t say anything to Grue, and simply waited as she grabbed her wheelchair, unfolded it and transitioned into it, before wheeling out into the hallway.
…alrighty then. Good morning, sleepyhead.
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