[Alf purses his lips when he glances at the cuts and the towel. Blood. Quite a bit of it, too. Shaking his head, he quietly makes his way to Cheyenne, eying what seem to be shards of mirrors as he goes around the table.
Poor girl.]
It's nothing to apologize for. You must be hurting terribly . . .
[ action ]
Poor girl.]
It's nothing to apologize for. You must be hurting terribly . . .