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"I just want to go home and sleep it off. I'm okay. Really." Her jeans are stained with blood, and she's starting to regret turning down Walsh's offer of body armor. Her halter top had done little to protect her arms from the demon's claws.
"This is standard procedure when one of our operatives sustains an injury," Walsh says.
"I'm not one of your operatives. I'm the Slayer."
"You're bleeding. Let me see it," Walsh says, stepping closer.
The I in Team, but with more medwhump and less betrayal.