The last time someone had been giving her advice about a bloody nose had been someone who was... how'd she put it... of them, but not them or something like that? There were some memories she hadn't revisited in months— memories that didn't fit into a remember-how-to-live-with-your-mom, late-shift-at-Taco-Bell, what're-you-doing-about-that-career-you-wanted kinda world. That was one of them.
Lyra pinched her nose and caught her breath as instructed, though the former was easier than the latter. Noses were less complicated than lungs, which protested against being smacked firmly against pavement. And emotion and memory all felt knotted up round her lungs too; Lyra let a long breath out and it still kinda shook from echoes of laughter.
"I don't think so?" Lyra replied, voice a bit nasal through the pinch and the handkerchief, as she gave her neck a test from side to side. She wasn't comfortable by any means, but she'd always been decent with handling pain. Better than she was at handling shock, anyway. "Is your door okay?" she asked, still too dazed to work out that if the door wasn't okay, she'd also be much worse off. Was a sturdy looking door, that one. Wood much more solid than her face. "Sorry, I was, uh—" Nope... couldn't answer that one honestly, and in that moment couldn't think of a lie to save herself.