As well as the five treatment bays, it had a bathroom with a shower. Chaing stood under the thick stream of hot water for a long time, despite the acute pain from his damaged wrist, washing the carnage off his skin. Soap took care of the physical contamination. As for the mental pollution—well, that was a whole different thing. The trauma of losing Lurvri, the butchery, those were events he could come to terms with eventually. That was an honorable part of the fight against the Fallers. But the Warrior Angel… I am completely compromised. Everything she told me, my heritage, it leaves me exposed. She did that deliberately. The nurse bandaged his discolored, swelling wrist, and told him he would have to get an X-ray. It was probably broken. He would need a cast for a couple of months. She offered him some painkillers. Chaing almost refused, but that would be churlish. And possibly out of character. I can’t risk that. He swallowed the pills and dressed in a set of spare clothes someone had brought from his locker.
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