Over eighteen. Right. She hadn't been to a hospital since she was nine, when she'd managed to fall off of a fence and pop her left arm out of socket. She'd had to walk home, too, holding her limp noodle limb to her stomach and whimpering like a kicked puppy. At least she'd stopped sobbing now -- not much point to it. The lancing pain had lessened to more of a raw, biting ache -- or maybe she'd just gotten more used to it. Oh, the tears kept coming from some unseen ocean behind her eyes, but at least she wasn't bawling like her nine year old self, laying in a field wailing for someone to help her. Nah. She was too tired.
Hey-o ... she was moving. And it hurt. Oh -- he was carrying her. Gotcha. What the hell? Where was her mind wandering off to? Leaning into the Sea King's chest, Evan stifled a low groan, letting it die in her throat. Deep breaths. She was gonna be fine, and her dad never had to know. And now, introductions! Jolly good. Paul and Cassie. "Cute couple." Grinning with one eye shut and bits of blood speckling her face from the biting gnats pretty much made her look like a pirate; they'd laugh about it later. Woof, dizzy. Both eyes were closed now, letting her focus more on those deep breaths. Yeahp. Things were gonna work out just fine.
"Big box, pretty wrapping ... blue. Note, too, said ... I deserved it. Someone ... hates me, 'n I just moved in ..." If she hadn't had the bejesus stung out of her and hadn't managed to slam her head twice, once against the wall and once against the cabinet, she might not have answered so plainly the questions about the box. Mm. Nap time.