Veronica is keenly aware of the fact that struggling will get her absolutely nowhere, but the moment her feet touch the ground again, she gives Cougar a solid, petulant shove, her eyes blazing with the injustice of being manhandled. She's not his kid, she's not even his sister.

"I'm fine," she spits, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to wince at the rough burn of the fabric scraping over her tender skin.

She's dropped her journal, and marches back to collect it, has to get down onto her knees to locate the wayward pencil. Sitting back on her heels, she looks down at the dog-eared pages, her eyebrows pulling together.

She wishes his intentions were less pure. It would be easier to stay angry.

"I just wanted to be alone for a little while."