Angela wasn't one to sit still for long, even in her wounded and tired state. She was wasting space, sitting here on a cot in the hospital tent where a more seriously wounded individual could lay. The blonde woman stood up, hand clutching over her abdomen. It still hurt quite a bit. It was likely that the wound wasn't completely healed, that there was still some internal damage that she'd have to be cautious about. The blood that stained her suit was now mostly her own, but she'd pay it no mind. It was the blood of others that bothered her most.

She stepped out into the middle lane of the tent, the cots lining the walls giving space for transport. There were thin partitions set up between beds so that there was a meager amount of privacy, and as well so that each wounded person wouldn't have to look over and possibly see the mangled body of a comrade. Angela soon spotted Fareeha, laying in one, stripped of her armor, battered and bandaged. Nothing too serious, it seemed, but enough to take her out of the fight. She couldn't imagine how much more it hurt Fareeha to be forced away from her duty.

The Swiss woman walked over to the side of the cot, sitting down on the edge of it. She likely looked like hell, but had to see if there was anything that she could do to ease the Egyptian jumper's pain, whether it be mental or physical. She cared too much to just let her lay here.

"Fareeha... How are you feeling?"