[She doesn't make it all the way to turned around because she is currently resting her forehead against the painted wall with her eyes closed. It's the least vertiginous she's felt for hours. But... there's enough room for him to see, right? It's fine. She gropes back blindly to take the clip out of her hair, tossing the plastic thing somewhere into the dark before drawing the rest of her to one side, out of the way of the top hooks. It covers about half of the line work tattooed there, still red around the edges, raised to the touch. It was only put down yesterday, which was really where she had taken off to, not camping.
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(No, she doesn't say 'thank you.')]