Ivy stood directly in front of me, looking down at me with the same unreadable expression she always had.
Her small medical bag hung from one hand, packed with whatever supplies she had managed to keep together through the attack, ointment, cloth, disinfectant, medicine bottles, needles, and probably a few things I did not even recognize.
She looked exactly as calm as she had always.
Maybe calmer.
I looked up at her, wondering for the hundredth time how someone with Ivy's personality had become a nurse.
Did nurses not need social skills? Or at least the ability to look concerned when someone was bleeding in front of them?
"Ivy," Rachel said as she stood up from beside me. "I'll leave Ryan with you. Be careful. He's pretty depressed right now."
I wanted to tell Rachel I was not depressed.
Then I remembered the last ten minutes of our conversation and decided not to embarrass myself further.
Rachel gave my shoulder a light squeeze before walking away.
