Quinn couldn’t help but lean away from Stark, her eyes wide.

“Bed’s good,” she said. “I can —“ She should probably actually stop trying to insist on walking on that foot. The shock was bound to wear off soon, after all.

You know, unless she was dead.

“What’s with the mask?”

It wasn’t a clown mask, which was for sure a point in Stark’s favor. And the primary reason she didn’t have the machete aimed at him.

The fact that she was too tired to raise her arm was . . . also a factor, yes.