Sinclair returns several minutes later when I'm slightly sober. His knuckles are bloodied and he has a split lip.
He doesn't look me in the eye as he slips out of his jacket and puts it around me.
He snatches my pants and hands it to me without a word.
I take it from him, heart racing and I fumble around for a bit, trying to put it on. "T-the zipper's ruined."
His head slices left and something rattles in his chest. I see more blood on his face, and on his shirt. His wounds have begun to heal and I can't help but wonder how Dane is.
"Where's...Dane?"
Sinclair looks at me and snarls, like he is incapable of communicating with me right now using words. Like the only way he is able to let out is frustration is through that pained sound. Black flashes in his eyes and his canines elonga
