Waiting until the man had left the tent, Charlie sank down in the chair, looking over the man unconscious in the bed. The urge was there to run her fingers over his wounds as lightly as she could, and she did so, staying away from the worst of the bruises. She held the cup, but didn't bother putting it to his lips. Instead, she set it down next to the camp bed, sighing a little before leaning over and murmuring next to his ear.

"You were supposed to take care of yourself, too," she told him in her quietest voice. "Remember? You're mine and I can't lose you."

Fingers came up to smooth back his hair and she brushed her lips across his furrowed brow and then his forehead. He was messy and dirty and so was she, but she wasn't going to do anything but sit right there until he woke up. It took a moment to shrug out of her jacket, but she did so and then lifted the cup again.

"Don't be a dick about it, Bass. You have to drink," she said, more in her own Stubborn Charlie voice. Back to soothing his hair back, she pressed the edge of the cup to his lips and let the water touch them.