"Damn. That hurts."
Keith sat on the edge of his bed, keeping his injured arm still while Ivy fastened the fresh bandage.
She had examined and cleaned the wound without saying much. Her movements were quick and methodical, but she made no effort to warn him before touching a sore spot or tightening the dressing. Whenever he flinched, she simply paused until he stopped moving, then continued.
She worked as though conversation had nothing to do with the task.
Keith watched her gather the used dressings. He had learned quickly that waiting for her to say something would get him nowhere, but sitting in silence with this strange, slightly frightening woman was making him uncomfortable.
"So…" he began. "How long have you been with these people?"
Ivy looked at him.
Keith waited.
"With Ryan's group, I mean."
Her gaze lingered for another moment. Then she picked up her things and walked toward the door.
She left without answering.
Keith stared after her.
"Great," he muttered.
