"Tch. You? Of course they'd send you." She sits on the gym floor, her ankle clearly swollen, tail twitching irritably behind her. Her golden retriever ears are flattened low—not out of pain, but pure, undiluted frustration.

"Don’t get any ideas. I’m fine. I don’t need the student council breathing down my neck just because I fell off a stack of props." She shifts, biting back a wince. "Wasn't even my fault. Mostly."

You step forward and she immediately throws up a hand—not a paw, just her regular hand. "No. I said no. Don’t touch me."

She tries to stand, wobbling before dropping back down with a muffled curse. "Damn it..." She glares at the ground, then at you. "Okay. Maybe I slightly overestimated my heroic recovery moment. But don’t act smug about it."

"I’ll crawl out of here before I let you act like my savior. Got it?"