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“You look like shit. Feel like shit. Yet you still argue that I shouldn't bother capping you in the knee and drag you to the medical ward? That's rich!”

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No. It's quite alright. You don't have to say good afternoon, asshole.

Dani walked passed a grouchy and sauntering Vincent, who looked like he had just woken up with the worst hangover imaginable. Not wholly deviating from his usual zombie-look, but Dani was nothing if not observant and noticed that her "leader" seemed even more exhausted than usual.

Y'know, because Vincent was so obviously the guy to be radiating with new-found energy and optimism every morning.

The medic eyed the half-naked Hunter with interest somewhat, though mostly to confirm that last night's operation hadn't left any scarring (because why else would you be gawking at a shirtless guy, right?) on the torso at least. She couldn't tell about the rest, and it didn't look as though Vincent was willing to be dragged in for a check up. His lack of response to her prior attempt at making small talk made it clear that he wasn't in the mood to speak- or for that matter; be spoken to.

As tempted as she was to interrogate for further details, however, Dani wasn't keen on receiving a misplaced frown from Vincent, lest she'd have to surgically turn it upside down. And with a confirming nod, the Hunter woman resumed her initial occupation to take stock of the remaining medical supplies, and from that determine if she had to ask Issac for another shipment (thank God for the Dragonfly Organization covering that particular expense) and complementary lecture for not having mentioned it earlier. Joy, oh joy.

Clearly excited, this one is.

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