moved to push herself into standing. The cold tile floor was not exactly comfortable.

“I mean my face. It’s too pretty for me to be running into walls like this.” It was partly a joke, but also Evie cared a little too much about her looks for a Spartan. Focusing on any mission-critical objectives came second, especially when she wasn’t deployed.

Setting her hands on the floor, she —

decent candidates: applications are open.”

Bracing herself, Evie expected the other’s touch to at least irritate the sensitive blemish. Any discomfort ended up being so minimal that she did not react, and so was quick to relax again. “Trust me, I’ll try avoiding it again. I can’t go around banging up one of my most valuable assets.”

“About the same.” And in the same position she had been left in. The red mark on the bridge of her nose had darkened while Artemis was away, and was beginning to its transition into a proper bruise. “Maybe a bit more of a headache now.”

Nothing severe. She was a Spartan, after all.

“Alright.” Evie looked back to Artemis, then moved herself to lean against the wall she had ran into. At least it was not as late as she had thought it was. Of course, that also meant she had emerged from the closet with far more panic and energy than was necessary.

“Yes please.” With that Evie forced herself to sit up. She rubbed the back of her head, not because she hit it on her way down, but because the embarrassment of her mishap was setting in. Then, folding her hands on her lap, she looked from Artemis to the closet door behind her. “What time is it?”

Broken? It didn’t feel broken. Just to be sure, Evie wrinkled her nose just to see if that was enough to worsen the pain. Fortunately, it was not. “Feels like it’s just bruised.”

She ran her right index finger over the bridge over her nose, right where it was marked. “How bad is it?”

|| Evie may not be the best soldier as far as Spartans go, but at least she can abuse the fact that she is mega pretty

Evie’s hair was a mess — though that was not a result of her miscalculation — and her clothes were in no better shape. Her gray hoodie was wrinkled and creased, as were the black jeans she wore.

What was a result of her blunder was a bit of redness on the bridge of her nose. “Just a bit.”

Flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling with a pained expression, she seemed at least a little less than okay. “Who the fuck put a wall there?”