"You got stabbed, and when it was a choice of cutting it off you, or tearing something open by trying to pull it off, they cut it off you." She moved to stand up, setting it aside for a second so she could lean in and kiss him, smiling against his lips. "Good morning, sleepyhead."

It was late, for him - but the last thing she'd ever fault him for here was resting. Tease? Yes. Fault? No. She picked up the kutte again - she'd already closed the two slits in the body of it where he'd been stabbed through, and since she'd done it from the back... there wasn't even much of a seam.

It was harder to fix where it'd been cut from the front edge to the arm hole because there were more layers, but that's why she was being careful and why it took more time. They'd used shears to do it, and she was matching up the pieces.

She didn't know how to work a sewing machine, and couldn't sew a pair of pants or anything like that. But give her leather and needles, and she knew what she was doing - and hell, it was easier than it could have been, because the leather didn't bleed or flinch. "You have an okay night last night? Or was it gross jello and crazy wandering people again?" The night before had been her there most of the time, but when she'd had to leave to get some sleep, there'd apparently been a man just wandering the halls talking to himself.

Darrow took all kinds, apparently.