Ivy here.
Mr. Stark came smashing down outside.
Running footsteps sounded.
I jumped up from where I had been sitting on the floor and ran in the direction of the footsteps. I collided with something at the doors.
"Ivy!" said Miranda.
I grabbed her in a hug. "Are you okay?"
"Fine. Just tired. How about you? What happened to your face?"
"I'm fine, it's healing. Hawkeye. On the helicarrier. I'm so sorry…"
"Sorry about what?" asked Miranda.
"I left you in the woods. I let him get you."
"Ivy…" she sighed. Miranda, who had always hidden her emotions, wore a clear expression of exasperation, something I had never seen her do. "Think about it. I certainly didn't expect help. He's better trained than you are, stronger, has experience fighting… you didn't have a chance. You did the smart thing and ran. If you'd stayed, it would have been both of us, not just me."
"That's not the point."
Mr. Stark took off again into the sky.
"What's the point, then?" asked Miranda.
"The point is I left you."
"The point is you did what nearly anyone else in your position would do," snapped Miranda. "You got scared. That's normal."
Miranda doesn't snap. I've never seen her angry, or really even upset. At least, not that she was showing, anyhow.
She walked past me into the room.
She was right, I guess. But it still felt wrong.
"What happened to your arm?"
"Loki. He had a knife."
"What's the blue stain on there?"
I glanced at the sleeve. Blue stained the grey fabric, along with the blood. I ripped the fabric off my arm.
Since I'm being honest here and none of my friends aside from Miranda will ever hear this recording, I might as well admit it – I hate the sight of blood and injuries. They're gross. Seriously, I don't know what people see in gory movies.
Still, I looked at the stab wound, as did Miranda, who didn't seem bothered at all by seeing it. Something blue oozed out of the injury, along with blood.
"Now, I'm no doctor," I said, "but that doesn't look good."
"No," agreed Miranda. "It does not."