Oh, me and the bump on my head are just grand. [Magic, probably. Vaguely. She has no idea, but she imagines this is what magic is: inconvenient flying bracelets that hit her on the head. Maybe this is karma, for all the times she threw flying projectiles in her angsty teen years.

Anyway: ] Was it supposed to conk me out? Feels pretty fucked up, even for this place. [When she moves her knuckles from her forehead, the red splotch has spread enough that it looks mellowed out. There is no bump, but she will absolutely act like there is. It's the principle of the thing. ]