'No time' seemed too pleasant a reassurance to contain any truth. And with the hospital in such an extent of disarray, Lena had little reason to assume she would be escaping St. Mungo's within the hour. Thus, she reluctantly followed the young healer who had come to her aid, in spite of her competitive and impatient nature for fear that any level of disagreement on her part would further hold up the mending process.
"Lena. 'Ms. Medic' makes me out to be someone in your line of profession," Lena corrected the woman whom she had identified as 'Granger', with only a dash of disapproval. Simultaneous to her statement, Lena positioned herself before the patient's table, opting to stand rather than to take advantage of the table's presence. In this way she did betray her desire to be elsewhere.
Granger's inquiry coaxed from Lena a proud smile, however, and within a moment's time she had abandoned her decision to remain on her feet and had plopped heavily on the bed. "I was having a nice chat with a Death Eater when things got... complicated," she explained in the enticing tones of a storyteller. "Before long we found ourselves in a battle of wits; a game of riddles - the winner of which would be rewarded the loaded revolver that'd been thrown to the floor between us. I won, but those Death Eaters are handsome devils - and liars, the lot of them." Her smirk shared many more of the attributes of a grimace than she would have preferred.
With the relief of a portion of the pain that Lena had been experiencing, she Instinctively began to recline against the table, lounging in a deceivingly casual manner as her injury proceeded to bite through her being. "The bullet hasn't left my arm," She explained in a surprisingly well spoken manner through the haze of her discomfort.