Things had gone fairly wrong. Verity knew that there were risks involved, and she knew that the Aurors did their best. They were dealing with terribly dangerous people, and she felt pride in that she'd helped to bring them down. Even though she'd been bitten in the process. At least it was a minor injury (mostly)... but Verity was experiencing the negative effects of the bite. Werewolf bites (even when the werewolf was in human form) were rather difficult to heal, and might not ever heal completely. And the scar was all across her upper arm and over her shoulder, jagged and disgusting. She'd lost a bit of blood, and the werewolf venom was now coursing through her veins. She wasn't going to be a true werewolf, but would experience some of the symtoms around the full moon. She was laying in bed, on her side with her back to the door, staring blankly at the empty bed beside hers. She was second from the end of the ward, and the rest of the beds were mostly empty.
Augustus Pye was still on duty, looking rather haggard and tired. He turned when he saw a shadow in the hall out of the corner of his eye, and stood from his chair when Oliver came into view. "Mr. Wood?" He asked, gently. He motioned for the other to come further into the ward. "She's down on the end," he motioned, "but she may be sleeping." His voice was quiet and low, wanting to make sure the rest of the folks in the ward got rest, too.