Redhawk Caldera On the mend.

A tense silence descended between them, and Titmouse (or whatever the heck his name was now) seemed intent upon keeping it that way as he sat there, sullenly refusing to speak or look at her. Raven knew the boy had been through a lot, and his anger and depression were normal coping mechanisms as he processed all that had been done to him and began the road to healing. She knew this, understood it. So why was it so difficult to be compassionate and give him the space he needed without being all pissypants about it? What was up with her mood today?

She was contemplating just getting up and leaving when the boy suddenly shifted, attempting to cross his forelegs. His broken leg pained him just then, and his curses were clear indication that the painkillers had definitely worn off. She arched a brow and looked at him, her voice cool as she commented, "Serves you right for being a jerk. Now be still." She rose to her feet and moved a little closer, looking at his leg with her practiced eye and noting with approval that the swelling had gone down a bit. He wouldn't be running any marathons anytime soon, though. "I've got something to help with the pain, if you want it."