Anyone else, and Molly is sure she'd be flinching away right now, any contact jarring even after having been cleaned up and checked out. It's Russell, though, and whatever may have happened in the past, something she's wound up thinking back on more than once tonight, there's no one here she trusts as much, no one she feels as safe with. Just having him here is enough to set her a little more at ease, self-conscious as she might still be about having to be seen like this. She might as well start trying to get used to it. These aren't injuries that will heal with any kind of rapidity, or that a little carefully applied makeup will be able to hide. Even if they were, it wouldn't make a difference. People are going to know about this, and she still doesn't know how it could have happened, how she wound up here in the first place.

"Yeah," she says quietly, something approximating sheepish, one hand lifting to brush against his wrist. "I... didn't think I could talk to a stranger." With him, at least, there's no harm in admitting it. It's probably pretty self-explanatory, anyway, when, no matter how close they might be, she wouldn't have asked someone to bring him here just because he's her friend. If anything, it's because this is so important that she wants it to be him. With Russell here, she'll be closer to comfortable than she would with anyone else, and therefore more capable of getting this right, which she needs to. It doesn't matter that Patrick is dead, that she couldn't even do much to defend herself. She still can't fuck this up. "Thanks for coming."