"Uh... Shhexpensive? What did I do?... Can I get slapped please? I haven't woken."

"I am not going to slap you. And yes, it probably is expensive, but you got shot, or do you not understand this?"

Unless she's planning on just waiting until the hour and using Libby, which… is actually somewhat less stupid, even if it's not actually much less stupid.

"I got shot?" Selfcheck, tap arm, groan. "Ow. Okay. Right. I did."

Thea's probably giving Cynthia more credit than she deserves.

Cynthia's eyes go wide. "Aaaaaah-right! Are you okay?! Did anything happen to you?" A quick look behind her, "Ah, come in! Mind the uh, puddle. I'll get to that." She steps inside, leaving the door open.

Thea follows Cynthia in, sighing at her apparent incompetence, and makes very sure to avoid as much of the puddle and assorted blood specks as possible.

Eugh.

"I'm fine. Literally nothing has happened since I last saw you."

"Ah, great! Assholes with needles got me."

Cynthia heads into her bedroom before offering any sort of explanation of that, slightly limping. She returns in a moment with her brace on her right leg again, holding a fresh shirt.

Thea raises an eyebrow and follows Cynthia, looking somewhat disturbed.

"Care to explain that a bit further?" she asks.

Well following her into her room, Cynthia would sit on her bed and push her desk chair over for Thea. She puts on the brace as she talks, one handed.

"Well, I called the officer. He's an asshole. Went down to talk to him, he's still an asshole, and after a little out came the assholes with needles. Couldn't really do much."

"… With needles?" She frowns. "Like, injection thingies that can take blood or put stuff into your system? I'm not just misunderstanding you here, am I?"

"Uh, yeah? Needles. Full of like, blue stuff. Stabbed me with it. Passed out and woke up in a little room. Pretty annoying."

Click click. Brace attached.

"Labcoats in and out. Big ass doors. Took awhile to pull apart."

She squints at Cynthia. "And… they did this despite it being, like, super super against the law?"

"Uh, yeah? They're assholes. They already bothered you too."

Click click, brace in place. Cynthia then grabs the bottom of her shirt and then freezes.

"... Do you mind if I change my shirt real quick? I don't want to... Do all that again. Still sorry, by the way."

She doesn't seem particularly satisfied with that explanation, but doesn't fuss over it, nor does she complain about being asked for some privacy. "Yeah, sure, I can just go stand outside."

"I don't actually mind you sitting there, just, trying to be somewhat normal. I mean, I can wait until I take a shower in a little." A half-hearted smile.

"Nah, it's fine," she says, then steps out of the room quickly to allow Cynthia to get changed.

Shuffle shuffle shuffle. "Ow." Shuffle. "Looks... Okay? Yeah. Okay." Shuffle fump. Shuffle shuffle.

"Done!" Bloody shirt is on ground, new shirt is on. Cynthia flops backward onto her bed. "What time is it...?"

"Like one pm? Something like that?"

She gets out her phone to check.

"Waaait, what is today even? I think it's been like... Two days? I dunno."

"Uh, it's Saturday. And it's quarter past one, yeah."

"AAARGH. Can I go back to bed?"

"I mean, I'd rather you didn't? What with the bullet wound and things?" She looks down at her feet, even though Cynthia can't see her. "You should probably, like, treat that rather than just hoping you don't die."

"Right... Baka-baka-baka. So, uh... Sure." Cynthia sits back upward. "Do I need to look up how?"

"Probably?" she says, since she's not really sure what's involved in treating a wound other than 'probably some sort of disinfectant'. "… Aaare you done changing tops yet?"

"I said I was done a bit ago, sorry!"

Cynthia gets up and hits the power button on her computer.

"… Oh." She walks back into the room and frowns. She didn't think she was that tired.

Insert Windows boot-up noises here.

"Let's see... Bullet wound." Tap tap tap.

"Oh, I've done enough of this last night. I'll be fine. No worries there."