That grey sky overhead was very nearly the same color as her eyes, though she could not possibly have known such a thing.

"There you are... " Bree couldn't resist the small smile, the little twitch at one corner of her lips as she looked down at Ethan, his head still cradled in the crook of one arm, pulled closely to her body. His arms were still wrapped about her, and it was actually the twitch of a finger against the bare skin of her back that let her know yes, the movement of those impossibly green eyes was more than simply some unconscious bodily function. 

Careful, tender fingers had felt Ethan's head for the source of the bleeding, but could find no laceration, no lump that could explain the blood. And though she knew very well that head and scalp wounds tended to bleed far worse than the reality of the hurt, it comforted her not at all to find nothing to explain the bleeding but some kind of... Well, she was no doctor, no nurse, but Bree could only surmise the bleeding started from within.

So when he finally began to stir, she was unspeakably relieved - and then vaguely discomfited, wondering if he'd do what he always seemed to whenever she was near, leap to his feet and run. Bree knew that if he did - because frankly, she was beginning to wonder if there were anything at all he was incapable of doing - she'd never be able to keep up with him. Whatever had happened in the rapids, whatever strangeness dictated they live where so many others before them had died, Bree was as done in as he seemed to be, and she just didn't have it in her to run after Ethan.

Her heart - her miraculously beating heart - just wasn't in it. Not anymore.

And so she simply waited, still wiping the blood as it flowed from his nose, his mouth, with the now scarlet-soaked T-shirt. In any other moment, she would have been horrified knowing how exposed that thick rope of angry pink scar truly was, bisecting her chest and rising nearly to her throat above the cut of her bathing suit top. Only Jarod had seen her like this since she'd left the hospital all those months ago - and even he simply pretended it wasn't there at all. 

But strangely enough, Bree felt uncannily certain Ethan wouldn't be taken back or... Well at the very least, he wouldn't be shocked, perhaps not even horrified at the sight. She was near overcome with the unnatural certainly that... Well, somehow he simply knew.

Still cradling his head in her arm, Bree set the blood-soaked T-shirt aside with a small, resigned sigh before she began to brush the tendrils of dark, damp hair from his face. 

"If you're going to run Ethan, just know I'll try to give a damn good chase. It's what I do after all, how I make my living - and most days I'm very good at my job. But in all honesty, I'm just... Tired. Really, really tired. It won't be a chase to remember, I guarantee it. And frankly, you look like hell warmed over anyway. I don't think either one of us is up for a whole lot of cat-and-mouse at the moment so... Can we not? Please?" A small, humorless bark of a laugh escaped her lips as her long fingers tucked a piece of his hair behind one ear. 

"What are you, Ethan? I feel flesh and I've wiped away your blood, but I've seen you do things that simply... They shouldn't be. I thought I was going batshit insane. I really did. But you're here. And I'm here. And that's just as impossible as everything else that's happened since the casino in Richmond."