Whatever the word might be for the bastard offspring of a sob and a relieved sigh, that's the noise that cracks out of her when he says he didn't blame her for not being there. It ends up muffled in his shoulder, drawn in as she is by the hug, but the force of it still rattles her thin frame.
"I worried you worried," she says, an admission as groundshaking as it is quiet.
The hug only lasts long enough for her to remember, in the wake of her relief, that this isn't something they really do. Touching for a while, that is. Triss used to, but she feels like she's forgotten how to do it, or let it happen, and now it's like trying to eat with chopsticks instead of a fork. Hannibal projects a no-touching forcefield so strongly it almost makes her wanna mess him up. She hasn't yet, for the same reason she was so worked up in the car - it's all too new, and she can't risk being sent back to CPS.
So they both lean back, Hannibal to look up at Ruth, Argus and Danae, Triss to swallow down all those freefloating pointless anxieties. She's still got a fistful of khakhi pant, though, bunched up next to his knee. She frowns at it until he calls her name.
Half her Christian name, even, yikes. Triss snaps to wary attention, fingers flying straight, but Hannibal just runs a hand down the back of her head like he's testing for gooseeggs and asks her if she's been hurt. If any of them hurt her.
Someone - Danae, probably - snorts. Someone else sighs at that, though she can't guess who. Triss gives the request for honesty a moment of serious consideration, recognizing with the mercurial speed of a practiced liar all the many ways she could make this really unpleasant for the three adults who kept her in a strange house overnight. Like, it wouldn't even be hard. She knows kids whose parents or stepparents got arrested for less. Technically, Danae swearing if you don't stop kicking me in the fucking spleen I'll leave you here to drown I swear to God while towing them both out of the harbor could count as threatening.
"No," she says at length, turning her hands over so Hannibal can see her abraded palms. The first layer or two of skin has just peeled away, leaving them red and raw. The insides of her calves, which were pressed against the kelpie's sides, look about the same, and that's not even starting on her lividly swollen left knee. "The horse thing did that. They were just--" her nose wrinkles as she turns in Hannibal's grip to squint up at them, "Confusing."
Ruth laughs, all the smile lines interlocking. "I'll bet we were," and next to her Danae's rolling her eyes, but Argus' lack of a reaction is the weird thing. He's got his head tilted to the side, like he's listening to them all, but his eyes aren't locked on anybody. They jump around a little, especially over Hannibal, though his attention flicks into the foyer beyond once or twice just while Triss watches.
"There really was a horse," she doesn't mean to sound defensive, it's just...she knows how it sounds, and if it were anybody but Hannibal she wouldn't even've told the the truth about that much, she'd've run away from her rescuers somehow and thought up some other story. But Hannibal knows about the weird. And it's important that he doesn't think she left on purpose. "M'not making it up, she saw it too."
Danae rocks away from the finger Triss points her way, but Argus shifts into the line of accusation and says, still calm as anything, "That's where the story gets long." He's not talking to her, he's talking to Hannibal, which is a familiar if unpleasant sensation that makes Triss sigh out all her frustration and exhaustion. The look she gives her guardian, back safely to the others, says: Now do you see what I've been dealing with?
man I'm gonna have to go expand these kid icons, I've only got 2 leftover from before...
"I worried you worried," she says, an admission as groundshaking as it is quiet.
The hug only lasts long enough for her to remember, in the wake of her relief, that this isn't something they really do. Touching for a while, that is. Triss used to, but she feels like she's forgotten how to do it, or let it happen, and now it's like trying to eat with chopsticks instead of a fork. Hannibal projects a no-touching forcefield so strongly it almost makes her wanna mess him up. She hasn't yet, for the same reason she was so worked up in the car - it's all too new, and she can't risk being sent back to CPS.
So they both lean back, Hannibal to look up at Ruth, Argus and Danae, Triss to swallow down all those freefloating pointless anxieties. She's still got a fistful of khakhi pant, though, bunched up next to his knee. She frowns at it until he calls her name.
Half her Christian name, even, yikes. Triss snaps to wary attention, fingers flying straight, but Hannibal just runs a hand down the back of her head like he's testing for gooseeggs and asks her if she's been hurt. If any of them hurt her.
Someone - Danae, probably - snorts. Someone else sighs at that, though she can't guess who. Triss gives the request for honesty a moment of serious consideration, recognizing with the mercurial speed of a practiced liar all the many ways she could make this really unpleasant for the three adults who kept her in a strange house overnight. Like, it wouldn't even be hard. She knows kids whose parents or stepparents got arrested for less. Technically, Danae swearing if you don't stop kicking me in the fucking spleen I'll leave you here to drown I swear to God while towing them both out of the harbor could count as threatening.
"No," she says at length, turning her hands over so Hannibal can see her abraded palms. The first layer or two of skin has just peeled away, leaving them red and raw. The insides of her calves, which were pressed against the kelpie's sides, look about the same, and that's not even starting on her lividly swollen left knee. "The horse thing did that. They were just--" her nose wrinkles as she turns in Hannibal's grip to squint up at them, "Confusing."
Ruth laughs, all the smile lines interlocking. "I'll bet we were," and next to her Danae's rolling her eyes, but Argus' lack of a reaction is the weird thing. He's got his head tilted to the side, like he's listening to them all, but his eyes aren't locked on anybody. They jump around a little, especially over Hannibal, though his attention flicks into the foyer beyond once or twice just while Triss watches.
"There really was a horse," she doesn't mean to sound defensive, it's just...she knows how it sounds, and if it were anybody but Hannibal she wouldn't even've told the the truth about that much, she'd've run away from her rescuers somehow and thought up some other story. But Hannibal knows about the weird. And it's important that he doesn't think she left on purpose. "M'not making it up, she saw it too."
Danae rocks away from the finger Triss points her way, but Argus shifts into the line of accusation and says, still calm as anything, "That's where the story gets long." He's not talking to her, he's talking to Hannibal, which is a familiar if unpleasant sensation that makes Triss sigh out all her frustration and exhaustion. The look she gives her guardian, back safely to the others, says: Now do you see what I've been dealing with?