[hr][hr][center][h1][color=Purple]Waverley Watts - Feedback[/color][/h1][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/bf145d0a6666d89ccd906998d5485178/tumblr_pzgkamIH7y1y6r9a6o1_500.gifv[/img][hr]
[color=Purple][b]Location:[/b][/color] George Washington University
[color=Purple][b]Skills:[/b][/color][/center][hr][hr]
	For a moment, Waverley was half afraid that Watts would go against her suggestion purely to spite her. But to her relief, she watched as, with his daughter in his arms, he ran across the street, taking shelter in a coffee shop. With them safe, she allowed herself to focus on putting herself between the Purifier and Cayden, who was being held in Sapphire's arms. She made a few threatening jabs at the man, trying to stave him off like the beast he and his people really were on the inside. But before he could get close to her, the little green-haired kid put him down without hesitation. Under normal circumstances, Waverley might've scolded the girl for the numerous corpses she'd decorated the battlefield with, or geeked out over their new temporary ally's powers and skills. But she didn't. 

	Instead, she let the bat clatter to the ground, and spun around. When she did, Sapphire walked past her, the woman's aura of cold causing goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck. At that moment, some part of Waverley knew what had come to pass. Some part of her knew, but she refused to accept it. Her denial drowned out any assumptions of the worst. She quickly walked over to the Echo clone that held Cayden, though her attention was solely on the young man in his arms. When she got to him, she immediately reached her hand to his neck wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but as she touched it, it felt like ice. She pulled her fingers back, recognizing it as the work of Sapphire. She figured touching it would do more harm than good. Unfortunately, that left her shaky hands with no way to help, and she [i]needed[/i] them to be doing something. So, almost instinctively, her hand moved from his neck to the back of his head, tangling itself in his long dark hair. Her other hand lingered on his neck, just far away enough from the wound as to not be at risk of melting the patch of ice.

	[color=purple]"Y-you're okay. The ambulance is almost here,"[/color] she croaked, her voice coming out raspy. He was still warm, despite the chilly air around them. He was still warm. Waverley didn't want to check his pulse, and her mind refused to register the fact that his chest had stopped rising and falling. But [i]he was warm[/i]. That was all that mattered. That was all that she let matter. And if she could keep him warm, then he'd be okay...right? It wasn't sound logic, of course. It was the kind of logic used so often by those in the first stage of loss, desperate and nonsensical. So she reached across his body, grabbing onto his hand furthers from her, and did her best to let her body heat raise his. Despite her fierce denial, tears were glistening on the surface of her eyes.