For several seconds, Gwyn was completely mystified as to why this man was suddenly tripping over his words and looking singularly uncomfortable. Of course, when it dawned on her, the secondary meaning to what he had said, she felt her face grow warm, a tiny (for her) blush stealing over her cheeks. This, naturally, meant that her face lit up like Christmas morning. Now was not an appropriate time to notice that the guy was pretty good looking. "Yeah," she murmured. "Yes, no. I know what yeh mean."
Her mouth went from a thin line as she listened to his story to a quirk off to one side. "Yeah, 's mad," she said. "Keep thinkin' it's all a dream or somethin'. I'd still be thinkin' that were it not for the fact that I gave myself a right pinch when I woke up. Too bad it didn't work out so well."
Following his gaze, she glanced down and remembered her hand. "This? Yeah, smarts a bit. Tried to take down my two, too, see? Guess I got in a few good ones 'fore I went under. Nails are torn to pieces, knuckles a bit bloodied, bruised. Can't say as I left them lookin' th' same, but here's to hope, yeah? Nothin' lastin', though, I dinnae think."
She offered him a thin smile, some minor anxiety stealing over her again as her recollection of the attack brought it into clearer focus, and then her slightly shaking bandaged hand, and said, "I'm Gwyn."