“Not that I’m unhappy about it, but why are you here?” She pouts. “Because my sister was on the brink of death?” “Was I, though?” “Well, critical condition. Interestingly, not because of the bullet. You hit your head hard when you slammed into Irene. Basically, you are responsible for the worst of your own injuries. Way to show agency.” She holds up her hand. With a sigh, I high-five her.
