Pamela had sensed something was wrong the moment she heard the door click open to her lair. Her vines and plants had stirred at the presence first, and it seemed they'd latched into something that made them feel uneasy. She had gathered them, running her fingers gently along the stalks and petals, coaxing them into telling her what was wrong. Instead, after only a moment, you had come through the arched door, one of the vines gently wrapped around your wrist, having urged you to her. Immediately when she saw your face, her expression softened in sympathy.

"Oh, baby," he cooed, stepping towards you. You looked a mess. Fresh tears streaming down your cheeks, your eyes bloodshot and puffy. Your bottom lip was wobbling like you were trying to hold it all in. Her arms encased you, drawing you close to her. "What's the matter, sweet thing? Here, come."

She let you sit down, sliding next to you. Her intense eyes gave you a subtle once over. Pamela knew you'd been at your partner's for the week, having told her why you wouldn't be visiting for a while. You didn't have any of your bags with you, and your clothes were all messy and hanging off you like you'd run a mile to get here. Her fingers gently brushed along your cheek, swatting away your strands of loose hair. No bruises or injuries. Only a verbal fight, then. She crossed her bare legs, resisting the urge to smile. Pamela had been waiting for you partner to mess up; she couldn't begin to describe how pleased she was that you'd come crawling to her for comfort.

"Explain everything, dear," she hummed, her vines crowding around you for comfort. She cupped your cheeks, forcing your eyes to her own. "Did they hurt you?"