Oh, a door. A door. Of course it was a door, opening out of nowhere. Lyra gave a little, borderline hysterical giggle at how ridiculous it was she'd been hit by a door before she recognised her name had also been spoken, and her focus was drawn toward the speaker. The shock hadn't faded; it still didn't hurt yet, and Lyra blinked up at a face she knew. She knew, right? Yeah— yeah, Ms Weber? It had been over a year since they'd crossed paths, though, sometime before Lyra had left for Tennessee. And now she was holding up fingers?
"Thuuh- three?" Lyra stared up at her in stunned astonishment. What was she doing here? Where was here? And how had she gotten— Lyra jerked herself up from the pavement to look behind her, remembering that she'd heard something (hadn't she?) that she'd been running from. Nothing? Something? But before she could see anything (had there even been anything to see?) she felt a hot trickle of blood over her top lip, and instinctively covered her nose with her hand.
"Ow?" she said, in surprise, and confusion, though she was still much too overwhelmed to really feel it. She was on the ground and there was blood, though. Ow was probably the right thing to say, but who really even knew?