There's one long second, one that seems to yawn open and take in more time than one second should allow, where Venus doesn't respond to Sam, doesn't seem to recognize him or even be cognizant of her surroundings. Then she snaps to.

"Sam?"

She obediently follows the gesture of his arm and lays back. Her spine unfurls like a leaf coming from a bud, into too tight an arch from the way her muscles clench with pain. Psychologically, she's fine with it. Physically, her body rebels against its injury. The cuts are deep, her blood pressure low, but no vital organs have been hit.

"Did Phil bring you?"