Oh, Hank would've told Wade, but Haylie wasn't going to wait for a chaperone to her own room. Which was a testament to her ever-insistent, fiery independence which could hardly be hampered by such a silly thing as a bullet wound. And of course Haylie was going to be fine. She was built like a tank, which literally saved her life. Her dad had seen several people on the end of those calibur bullets fired from similar distances and those who survived long enough to make it to the hospital had their insides completely mangled from the ricochet and maybe one had lived through it. Not a terribly comforting thought, unfortunately.
Turning to face Wade, tears rushing from her eyes, Haylie fell forward and buried her face in Wade's chest. She couldn't explain in any way that would help Wade understand. The Professor was taken, drugged within inches of his life, their home was destroyed and invaded, she was shot, and she witnessed a massacre unlike anything the United States had seen since Pearl Harbor, even having taken a few lives during that one surge of power. Because she got angry.
On the battlefield, she'd kept all of that emotion locked up tightly, but now it needed to be let out or she'd hurt herself with over-discharging again.