Nadry had known the moment she'd decided to throw a punch that there would be repercussions, and she'd been quietly waiting to hear them ever since.  Quite frankly, she was fairly certain nothing could be much worse than living with the knowledge that she'd (rightfully) incurred the wrath of the Master Healer.  She knew full well that she'd screwed up, and badly - not with the first punch, F'vel had absolutely deserved that, but with everything after.  The simple truth was that when he'd grabbed her the way he had, she'd panicked, though she also knew that didn't excuse it.  She'd had three days to think herself in circles about everything.  Maybe that was meant to be part of the punishment: think about what she'd done, like a child standing in a corner.  Wallow in it, like she wasn't up past her eyes in stress and worry already.  The heavy shadows under her eyes spoke to how little sleep she'd had, and it was entirely possible that what moments she had to herself were given to tears.  She'd done everything possible to keep them to herself, right along with everything she was feeling in the wake of what had happened.  No one needed that right now - there were much more serious concerns than her feelings, so she bottled them up rather than inflict them on anyone.

It was a relief when she was finally summoned, but concern was close on its heels.  She was reporting not to her Wingleader, but to the Flight Leader.  On the one hand, there was no possible way that could bode well, but on the other...she'd never been entirely comfortable with A'gus, so a little part of her was almost glad.  Almost.  Not quite.  Another part felt guilty; she knew he'd been injured, and his dragon, like Macuith, was less a limb.  And yet he was saddled with dealing with her.

It was hard to stand up straight, to summon up the will to make the effort to at least look like she had it together when she felt like she was falling apart.  Ultimately, she did manage, but it wouldn't be hard to tell that it was a lie.  She did her best, but there was no hiding that she was exhausted, in every way.  She held her splinted right hand close to her chest, and waited for her knock to be answered.

Or for the ground to swallow her up.  That would be just fine.

Teiha