The normalness of the exam - the same type of things she went through with her annual physical - comforted her to a degree, allowing her to pretend it really was one of the physicals she endured every year. Tilting her head slightly, she idly wondered if she had grown at all. Even though she liked her height, she wouldn't mind being a little bit taller.
Her musings were cut short as she hopped onto the examination table and Dr. McCoy asked her to remove the long-sleeved shirt she wore. She should have expected this, expected to have to remove the button-up shirt, especially with the tank top underneath. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes as she made no motion to remove the top.
She knew he might ask questions if he saw the knife wound. Which made sense. But she hated that wound, hated that they took her blood.
Still, it would be worse to have him ask again. He was being so nice and all and even with her reluctance to have this exam, she did not want to disappoint him again. Sighing, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off her shoulders, refusing to meet his eyes as she revealed the unkempt bandage she had tied around her arm. She had tried to make it look nice, but the length of the wound and the placement made it hard.
The crying she had done when she first applied it probably did not help.