"You look like crap," Arla said bluntly. It was better than "you look like shit" which was the less friendly alternative. She herself had a nice gash along the otherwise smooth skin of her thigh, and a couple of smaller scrapes, but Arla was difficult to harm. She took a lot of major hits, but the minor roughing-up tended to do little to her. Her skin was thick and would smooth back over, leaving her with very few scars to note despite her extremely severe injuries over the years. They were there, just barely, but it was like her skin didn't want to lose any of its incredibly slippery, hydrodynamic qualities.
She slipped out of her robe, letting it pool about her flippers on the tile floor. "You are all right, aren't you?" Look, she was caring about another person. Good girl. "You got back late."