just a flesh wound | lydia & allison
Aristotle once said the wise were less focused on seeking pleasure and more on avoiding pain. Lydia was fairly certain the philosopher had never faced down a gun in his day, but his words were still pretty accurate. Work at the Bureau was typically less about having fun and more about not being set on fire, or bitten, or any of the other various misfortunes that could befall a person who spent at 40 to 60 hours a week working with supernatural creatures.
Serving as target practice for a fellow employee, however, was something Lydia had never expected. She was still too stunned to be jaded about it. The infirmary was actually the one place within headquarters that she'd never visited—that she had clearance to, anyway. The sharp pain in her side had receded thanks to the wonder of medicine; it was good to be able to sit up properly again, to breathe again. But the well-fare of her co-workers was still nagging at her, so it wasn't long before Lydia was climbing out of her bed and up on her feet again, bullet would be damned. It was just a flesh wound, after all.
She opened up the curtains and stuck her head out furtively, only to be surprised by the sight of someone already nearby. "Allison?" Excellent; information wouldn't be difficult to locate. That was when Lydia took in the appearance of said agent. She gasped, and though her surprise surely showed on her face, she knew it would be rude to comment. Not to mention shallow—the fire damage meant that Argent had obviously faced down the Aitvaras, and if that was the full extent of the damage Allison had escaped with, she was lucky. Lydia gave her a small smile. "I'm glad you're alright."
