The door rips open as if Anathema's just been camped out in the living room, one foot bouncing impatiently and restlessly against the floor, while she sat listening for the door (which, in fairness, is exactly what she's been doing). She goes scurrying for the front door almost quick enough to go sliding on the floor, and as soon as she sees Sal, she goes still and lets her dark eyes roam up and down the other woman, drinking in the sight of her.

Sal looks absolutely terrible. Alarm and concern flickers across Anathema's face, before she bursts out, "What the hell happened to you?" before she doesn't wait for an answer, already propelling herself over the threshold and into the other woman's arms, colliding ungracefully with her bruises, arms hooking around Sal's neck as she buries her face in her shoulder, feeling her breath heaving in her lungs.

So this is what it felt like. Being on the other end, when she vanished to the City, and Sal was the one left behind and wondering and waiting and worrying.

She can't say she likes having the shoe on the other foot.