Alley didn't even mean to, but her stumpy left arm came down against Cole's side, the elbow tucking behind the spirit in as close to a cling as she could manage. Cole was solid; was there. It helped.

She sucked in a breath and then lifted her tear-smeared face to drink from the vial, expression twisted with something mixed between agony and battle-rage. Pain made her want to lash out, which was why she couldn't take those drinks Bull had offered.

"Sorry," she set her head back down against Cole's shoulder once the vial was empty, "I know you're not a toucher. Shit, fingers are the worst."

And they'd been shattered so many times she couldn't even grip a quill.