"This is what I hear. I guess her grandmother is in a real state too, driving her insane as usual," Tatum murmured back, her legs pulling up onto the chair with her and inside of the blanket wrap. She watched Mackenzie back as the blonde crawled onto the bed and peered at her like that. Something in the look broke her heart a little, and she had to look away again, staring out of the window as she took a toke from the joint and exhaled toward as well. It was open a crack, and the smoke was quickly swept out.

She glanced back to Mack when she spoke, offering the older girl a sheepish little smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "I don't blame you.. sleeping on a floor is no place for somebody. She won't let you up on the bed?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing a bit. For a moment, she felt a fierce stab of dislike for Hunter. She would let Mack in the bed. Wouldn't she? Of course she would. It was what had started this whole mess, really.

"That's bad for your spine," she finished lamely, backing down on the subject. It wouldn't do to push Mack about it. She and Hunter were just.. weird. If she asked to sleep in the bed, it was likely the other blonde might drop-kick her through a wall or something for no reason. Tatum really couldn't wrap her head around them. She watched Mack again, puffing slowly, and wondered how many bruises she might have. She itched for her wand, wanting to act like old times, to jokingly pull her friend's hoodie up while she protested, healing up her stupid 'battle wounds' against her will if it came to that.

She probably needed it. Hunter had probably worked her over like a bag of sand this week if she had been with her every night. It explained why they hadn't run into each other at all. Had Mack even gone to class? Tatum hadn't seen her in advanced Transfiguration or music, not even once.

Tatum leaned over to her desk more, finding the ashtray in the semi-darkness and stubbing out the last of the joint. She felt stoned, but really not much better. If anything, she felt more anxious. Was Mack staring at her? Why? What was she supposed to do for the other girl? She was clueless and useless to really help, and the reality was setting in like a weight on her chest. She cleared her throat, hunching over in the chair and looking over toward Mack on the bed again.

She heard the sniffling, surprisingly loud in the otherwise totally silent room. Perhaps only because she had been listening for it, waiting for it, telling herself she was going to have to be the strong one if Mackenzie broke down. Now she was, and Tatum didn't even know where to begin, inhaling shakily and lifting her hands to push the blanket off of her own shoulders. She closed the laptop, leaving the room in total darkness now.

The redhead thought briefly of the thing she had seen across her ceiling, and her pulse quickened, but she quickly pushed reality to the front of her focus before she let her imagination run away. There was nothing in the darkness except the two of them and this palpable awkwardness. "Babe," she began before she could stop herself, biting her lip roughly. She wasn't her babe. They couldn't say stupid shit like that anymore, that was for girlfriends. She called Frankie that, she couldn't just go throwing it around for anyone. But it just came so naturally, and that made her chest tighter.

"Mackenzie," she corrected herself, standing up from the chair at last. She moved through the darkness with a sense of direction she didn't really realize she had. She usually at least stubbed a toe on something. She dragged the blanket with her, and found her way to the edge of Bekka's bed, stopping as her knees hit the edge of the mattress. Her hands were shaking, but she shook out the blanket, spreading it over Mack's curled up form. "I-It's okay," she lied, just standing beside her, feeling frozen in place and unsure of what else to do.