Harrow wouldn't think she deserved tenderness even if God himself walked in here standing on his hands to declare she deserved it by the shipload. But that's too fucking bad, because that's what she's getting from Gideon, at least until Gideon has the strength to throw her bodily again. For now, she lets her limbs be moved. The pain is receding and leaving bone-deep weariness behind. But she's not ready to surrender to the darkness, and certainly not ready to face any fussing medics.

"Not... yet..." It's rough, but far less weak than her earlier attempts to speak.