When the cough finally subsided, the self-disgust was apparent on her face as she pulled the tissues away, damp with phlegm and speckled with color that did not belong. It crumpled in her hand, flung to the side for a wastebasket.

Considering her illness and her obvious physical limitations, there was something to be said about the fact her projectile landed where targeted. The absent attention given to the task was one.

"It's fine," she said, with just as little deliberate focus as went to the throw. "It's not like I have a finite supply, you know."