Lexa paused at the… [i]defeat[/i] she heard in his voice. What was with this guy? Whenever she thought she had him figured out, he threw a curveball at her. She closed her mouth, looking down at the rumpled blanket covering her legs and pooling around her waist. 

[color=crimson]"I can barely move,"[/color] she finally said. [color=crimson]"Not like I can do much either."[/color] Lexa was quiet for a long moment after that, pulses of pain throughout her body keeping her grounded. He'd been trying to kill her last night. He'd had her chance. And instead he'd brought her back to his home and tried to clean her up. Her eyes flicked back up to see him.

[color=crimson]"You keep helping me."[/color] Her voice was soft, almost a question. She looked back down. Yesterday when she killed a man for the first time… he'd spoken to her with care. Sympathy, even. There'd been concern in his voice, even though they'd been enemies. He'd taken her out for drinks and consoling after, when she'd been a riled mess, tearstained and bloodstained. And now this. It didn't excuse all the death he was responsible for – not by a long shot. But… 

Lexa didn't like this feeling – a murderer sympathizing for her, caring for her like human life had any meaning to him. She didn't like feeling indebted to him. Frustrated confusion stirred under all the exhaustion, though it was a dull, distant thing. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, giving a quiet sigh. 

[color=crimson]"So,"[/color] she said after another long silence. [color=crimson]"Why do you wanna kill this guy so bad?"[/color] Her eyes were still closed, and she asked it as casually as though it was idle chatter.