If this were one of those movies, one of those airport novels, the glove would get in the way - block the signal, hide the signified, pave the way for weeks, months of fruitless yearning, of needless roadblocks, all to pay off in that big oh moment that anyone who's even heard of romance saw coming a mile away; probably in an airport, because what doesn't scream romance like a building designed to ship people as efficiently as possible (Abby might have some rather stringent standards for romantic tropes - and her daughter delighted in subjecting her to the worst of them).

It doesn't of course - you have to get specially made fabric if you want to forestall something so integral to modern society; no one wants to miss meeting their most perfect compliment, not even surgeons - especially not surgeons.

Still, Abby has to admit that, all situation induced adrenaline aside, seeing the shape of her fingertips blooming rainbow bright across shattered femur is rather out there, as placement goes.