She connects the call. A woman’s face appears above the compad, dark eyes immediately sharpening.
“Evie, you were supposed to message—” Nara stops. “What the hell happened?”
“Small disagreement with several gang members and the pavement.”
“Are you bleeding?”
“Some.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
Evie glances at me.
“Yes,” I answer.
Mira’s gaze snaps toward my side of the projection. “Who is that?”
“Kauss,” Evie says quickly. “He helped me.”
“Define helped.”
“He stopped them.”
Mira’s expression does not soften, but her panic becomes organized. “Put me on full projection and let me see your pupils. Kauss, if you’re the giant shape beside her, get light on her face and do exactly what I say.”
I take the lamp from the side table and angle it toward Evie.
She winces. “That’s bright.”
“Good,” Nara says. “Annoyed means conscious. Follow my finger on the projection, Shy.”
I stand beside the sofa while Nara talks her through the exam. Pupils reactive. Speech coherent, though sarcastic. No obvious skull fracture. Ribs likely bruised, possibly cracked. Shoulder strained. Cheek swelling. Temple impact concerning but not immediately catastrophic if monitored. I memorize every word, every instruction, every symptom that would mean emergency care regardless of Evie’s preferences.
Mira’s gaze shifts to me after several minutes. “You. Kauss. Can you stay with her until I get there?”
“No,” Evie says immediately. “He doesn’t have to?—”
“Yes,” I say.
She looks up at me.
“I will stay until you are safe,” I add.
Nara points through the projection. “Good. Keep her awake for another hour. No alcohol. No sleeping until I check her. If she vomits, gets confused, stops making sense, or her pain spikes sharply, you carry her to emergency whether she likes it or not.”
“Understood.”
“I already dislike this authoritarian coalition,” Evie mutters.
Nara ignores her. “I’m leaving now. Fifteen minutes if the transit rail isn’t dead, twenty-five if the city remains committed to sucking.”
The call ends.
The apartment grows quiet except for rain and Evie’s unsteady breathing.
I open the first-aid kit. “May I clean the blood?”
Her mouth curves slightly. “Look at you asking.”
