100-percent-jazzed-to-meet-you:
“Woah!” Holtzmann protested, holding her hands up in front of her–in objection, not surrender. “You are not stitching me up. No needles.” She insisted, backpedaling quickly. “Y’know, I think you’re overreacting. I was bein’ overdramatic, really, I’m fine!” She said quickly, shooting out of her seat, ignoring the lightheadedness that came with it. She lent on it heavily, but remained standing out of sheer spite, even in her albeit weakened state.
Her docile phase was now officially over. She didn’t want to, but she found herself growing slightly frantic. Even though she knew that something was obviously wrong, she now refused to admit it, regretting her original decision. However, she still tried to hold a facade of indifference.
From one look, Holtzmann could tell that Abby wasn’t convinced, and that she thought she was just stalling. She huffed, “Abby, Erin, and…” She hesitated, the name on the tip of her tongue. “Patty.”
She knew that Abby was looking for more, but Holtz quickly realized that she had no more to give. Suddenly, she was on the defensive, “Actually, yeah, it does sound kinda stupid.” She said, cringing at the hurtful words that just came out of her mouth. “Just- I’m okay, Abby.”
“Holtzmann! Don’t be a baby. You’re bleeding, look!” Abby held up her hands, which were almost completely covered in dark red, semi-dried blood. Abby could tell she was having a hard time staying up right, but decided to let her try it on her own before she stepped in again. This must be a lot for her to take in, especially on top of a hangover.
“I did say last names too, you know.” She frowned, grabbing a washcloth from the counter and cleaning off her hands. Holtzmann’s words stung and she winced, but tried not to take it to heart.
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are so not okay. Don’t make me get Erin and Patty in here to help me carry your ass to the hospital. Holtzmann you could barley remember their names. You have a concussion. Or worse.”