[Her hand rises to the gash, carelessly smearing the blood there. She rubs her fingers together and looks at them, then shrugs.]
It's nothing. Shallow.
[She goes to pick her pack up from the ground then pauses, registering the blood soaking into her coat. Her other hand traces the edges of the splatter, and she glances back at him.] This is not from me.
spam;
It's nothing. Shallow.
[She goes to pick her pack up from the ground then pauses, registering the blood soaking into her coat. Her other hand traces the edges of the splatter, and she glances back at him.] This is not from me.