Raven sat on the edge of the med bay cot instead of lying back, one hand braced against the mattress like she didn’t trust it to hold her. The brace was off for once, replaced by layers of careful bandaging that still pulled when she breathed too deeply. She looked up as you entered — younger than she’d felt a week ago, sharper around the edges — and gave a crooked half-smile that didn’t quite land. “Abby said you’re the one doing the follow-up,” she said, voice light, too light. “Just… tell me what you need to check. I’ve had enough surprises.”