[It's not that Anya doesn't drink; she certainly does. But when she's stressed, when she's hurting and scraped and pulled thin, when she needs it - she doesn't let herself drink alone.]
...oh thank god.
[Hoarse, when she sees him, what he's brought, even though she has plenty in cabinets she won't open right now. She grabs his wrist, tows him toward the windowseat.]
You look awful.
[But she loves him; she is so, so glad he's here.]
no subject
...oh thank god.
[Hoarse, when she sees him, what he's brought, even though she has plenty in cabinets she won't open right now. She grabs his wrist, tows him toward the windowseat.]
You look awful.
[But she loves him; she is so, so glad he's here.]