I winced as someone approached me, asking if I needed help. [color=f49ac2]Well GEE. I [i]wonder[/i]. It's not like I'm stuck halfway through a glass door or anything.[/color] If thoughts could be described as sarcastic, then mine were. Still, I wasn't an idiot. If someone comes up and offers me help in a situation like this, I'd have to be a total dumbass to turn it down. I turn my face up to hers, grunting and wincing at the sudden spike in head pain. Again. My split lip was still running with blood, and aside from putting a highly unpleasant coppery taste in my mouth, I'm sure it looked like I'd just got the shit beaten out of me.

[color=f49ac2]Well, I mean, I sort of did. By a pole. And a door.[/color]

Who knows, maybe I was an idiot. My first unconscious thought upon seeing my unknown savior was [color=f49ac2]wow, she's pretty hot.[/color] 'Course, in about a millisecond I'd refocused on my situation and mentally berated the shit out of myself, grunting out a few strained sentences. [color=6ecff6]"You could say that, yeah. Turns out that being stuck halfway through a glass door is a fairly unpleasant experience. Who knew?"[/color] My deadpan semi-humor was probably lost on her. Whatever. It's not like it was intentional. Conditioned reflex and all that, honed from years of stickin' it to the man in the city streets. [color=6ecff6]"Think you could do me a solid and maybe break off some of the glass on the edges of the doorframe so I can get myself out without cutting myself to fuckin' shreds?"[/color]

Almost as an afterthought, I add, [color=6ecff6]"By the way, I'm Tori. You got any idea what happened to cause this shitshow?"[/color]

[@Elle Santiago]