"Hi," Abby says grimly, face still turned away — she's watching Lazar pick the lock and wondering why the fuck they have locks on the infirmary shelves that random Riftwatch members can pick any time they like, doesn't that defeat the purpose? What if Barrow could pick locks instead of hitting them?? "Welcome back."

Then she goes, "Woah," and has to take a quick step forward when Clarisse leans backward suddenly, pitching their combined weight in the wrong direction. It's akin to holding up a drunk person. "Wait, wait—"

She lowers her until her feet find the floor, still supporting her by her arms lest she collapse like a house of cards. "Take it easy, you've got a concussion."

Says the woman with blood all over her face, but—