"I know you are, but my safety isn't what you need to worry about," she sighed. Stephanie let his hand brush against her skin, but she didn't lean into the touch. She was upset, and this wasn't over yet. But her eyes went to her arm when he mentioned it again.

"It's nothing, just a scratch. I took care of it."

She dropped her hand, and the frown on her face deepened. Bright red polka-dots were staining the material of her shirt where her hand had covered. It quickly resumed its position.

"I just need to wrap it again. I'm fine. If I'm on house arrest I can practice sutures, too."

Oh, the sarcasm.