[wordlessly, she caps her pen and tosses the book onto the passenger side floor, but carol doesn't go yet. because every time he can't breathe, every time she can see it anyway, her own lungs try to stopper up in sympathy.
there's nothing she can think of to say that won't make things shitty again (like always), and maybe this'll make things shitty too, but she can't just sit here and be useless when he looks like that.
so--
a hand settles on his back, between his shoulder blades over that shitty new-old coat he's dug up somewhere, rubbing gently once, twice, then stays there. easy to shrug off. expecting it.
carol keeps her eyes firmly on the steering wheel.]
Re: action
there's nothing she can think of to say that won't make things shitty again (like always), and maybe this'll make things shitty too, but she can't just sit here and be useless when he looks like that.
so--
a hand settles on his back, between his shoulder blades over that shitty new-old coat he's dug up somewhere, rubbing gently once, twice, then stays there. easy to shrug off. expecting it.
carol keeps her eyes firmly on the steering wheel.]