The small crowd shifts, uncertain. One of them, a girl from class, she thinks, frowns. "Should we call-"

"No, really, it's fine. Happens all the time." She helps Cara to her feet, keeping her voice light, casual. Nothing to see here. "Come on. Let's get you some orange juice."

She gets up obediently, putting plenty of weight on Vera.

Vera gets some odd looks, but nobody moves to stop her.

With her esper senses, she does hear one of them mutter "They really don't look like sisters..."

She steers them down the hallway, keeping her arm firmly around Cara's waist. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows as they walk.

"Almost there," she says, comfortingly. Her fingers find the edge of Cara's robe where it's slipped, skin against skin. Buzz.

She follows obediently, of course.

Her steps are noticeably more stable than they were a few hours ago - seems like the food and nap did her some good.

(The students return to their busy lives.)

She kicks the door shut behind them once they're back in the room. The lock clicks.

"Sit." She gestures at the bed, then moves to her desk drawer. There's rustling as she digs through it, finally pulling out a small glass bottle. The label's been peeled off.

She sits on the bed, glancing up at the clock before looking back to Vera.

She uncaps the bottle and takes a swig, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. The liquid burns going down. She sets it on the desk and crosses to the bed, standing close enough that Cara has to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

"Open your mouth."

She obediently opens wide.

She leans down and releases her accumulated spit, watching it land on Cara's tongue. Her thumb brushes the corner of the girl's mouth, the contact sending that familiar buzz through her fingertips.

"Swallow."

She swallows, trying to keep her mouth open as much as possible during the process.

Yay! Guiding!

She's being guided! She still has a lot of backlash.

She traces her thumb down to Cara's chin, tilting it up. The room is quiet except for their breathing and the distant hum of the heating system.

"Good girl."

She's very obedient!

She steps back, considering. The girl's eyes are still that vacant, glassy quality - not quite there, not quite gone. She picks up the bottle from the desk and takes another swig, swishing it around her mouth.

"Stand up. Turn around."

She stands and turns, her back to Vera.

She moves closer, runs her fingers along the back of Cara's neck where the hair is short and downy soft. The touch is light, clinical.

"Eyes closed. Count to thirty. Then turn around."

Under her breath, she murmurs "One, two, three..."

She moves silently to her desk drawer, pulls out a small glass vial. The liquid inside is clear. She uncaps it, tilts it back, holds it in her mouth. The burn is different from the alcohol - sharper, chemical.

She waits.

"...twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."

She turns around, eyes still closed.

She steps forward, close enough that Cara would feel her breath if she weren't holding it. Close enough to see the flutter of pulse at her throat. She leans in and presses her mouth against Cara's, releasing the liquid in a slow trickle.

Her hand comes up to grip Cara's jaw, keeping her in place.

It burns in her throat. (She doesn't react, of course.)