Rhys jerked his hands back as if they had been burned. "Sorry, I didn't mean..." He drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "Okay, engage brain..." He held up his hands and managed a weak smile. "Look, no hands."
He glanced over at Ghet. "A drink would be great," he said. Even the raw alcohol she offered might be helpful at this point in time. His brain cells seemed to have completely short-circuited.
"I'm... fine," he assured Helen. "But you? You don't have to explain if you don't want to, but..." His gaze dropped to the bruises. His gaze hardened a fraction. The thought of anyone maltreating her didn't sit well with him.
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