They meet eyes, then. Abby stares at her, shocked, before she swallows and squeezes her arm up high on her bicep, lets her go. If Ellie were to ask her why she did that, she wouldn't even remember doing it. Her mind is tripping up over itself in its attempt to adjust to the situation, and she sinks down onto her knees beside her, and takes her arm, slow but firm.

"Let me see." It's- uh, easy to see. The bite went deep. Fuck it makes her skin crawl to look at it. She knows Ellie is immune but the sight of the broken, fucked up flesh and blood instinctively makes her want to run, hide, anything, get very far away from Ellie at the very least. For her own safety.

She skims it without thinking, runs her fingertips over one edge, smearing the blood. That breaks the spell.

"There's- the others have more stuff." She has a pack but no antiseptic, no rubbing alcohol. Nothing they could pour on this, flush it out. She says, distracted, "We have to get back. We- oh, fuck. We have to figure out what we're telling them."

We, like she's part of this, when it's Ellie's immunity. But she is part of it. Always has been.