Linden doesn't know the sign, but the way the gesture manifests tells him enough about what it probably means, at least the gist. Nill's more than unhappy, she's livid, whether at the man who did this or Linden for allowing it to happen. Hopefully Stephen has escaped the bulk of the blame; Linden doesn't like thinking about the Escort catching shit for this, given how much he'd initially opposed it.

Whatever fury he was bracing for never comes. Her shoulders wilt forward and her wings fold, making her appear even smaller. She steps closer, as though approaching something wild and wounded, and Linden shifts but manages not to insult her by flinching or withdrawing. If he could manage to let Phillip help clean him up last night when he came in in his respectful, businesslike way, he can stand his steady ground before a person he frequently mourns not being able to touch. He notices her quick blinking and the glistening sheen on her exhausted eyes, and when she apologizes to him in turn, he's momentarily paralyzed.

"Firstly, it is not that bad," Linden insists, hating the way his voice moves through bruised and creaking channels as if to pathetically call him a liar with every word. "It's like finishing a chore that needs doing, and it is hard..."

Understatement of the year

"...but I'm stronger than everyone thinks I am. I'm a Victor, Nill, we're... not supposed to need protecting."

He speaks like someome half-convinced, half trying to convince himself, and fully grateful that Nill wasn't a part of his taxing rendezvous.