[ At Stephen’s glance, Santana shoots him a look right back that very plainly reads: try me, bitch. It’s the most typical Santana-style things she’s done since this catastrophe started, which is reassuring, maybe?

Once Stephen’s all bandaged up, Santana steps back and lets out one long, slow exhale. Now that her adrenaline’s starting to drop, Santana just feels tired. And gross — there’s blood on her gloves, and some on her arms and clothes, too. She stares at the mess blankly, for a moment, before peeling the gloves off and throwing them away. ]

Okay. Once you’re not bleeding like a vampire’s paradise, we can change the bandages and get you some topical antibiotic. You’ve, uh. Lost a decent amount of blood, so I’m gonna find you some sugary juice or something and you’re gonna drink it.

[ It’s good to have a plan! Maybe this cafe has apple juice or something. Before she turns away to go look for that: ]

You holding up okay?