She glances up at him, the equivalent of a stone wall on her face. She's not sure she feels comfortable around anyone, right now, but especially the people that got hurt in the crossfire -- because of her. She can't take her eyes off of the wound and the guilt only magnifies now. She draws herself in tighter and wants to be anywhere but there.

She doesn't even know what to say. Considering how long she's spent fighting this war, she's still shy of explanations and verbal palliatives. "You look like shit," she accuses.