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Amrita kept one arm pressed tightly against her middle, but raised the other in a weak hand wave. "No no, I'm fine. It's fine. I don't even think I have a stomach it's just...I'm hurting all over. I got hurt before Prom, I think whatever I have is just amplifying an old wound." Which really wasn't too much of a lie. Sophie had patched up a really nasty stomach wound before Prom, but she wasn't going to admit it was a common thing.

"I'm made of FEAR just like you are...I think you're safe from whatever I have 'cause you're a Reaper and all, but...jack..." She hissed, peeking down at her stomach to make sure no blood or other substances leaked through her bandages and shirt.

"It hurts." So far, so good.

Ugh. Those eyes. Those eyes! Amrita could only glance at the concerned Reaper, afraid that if she stared for too long at those pleading puppy dog eyes she would spill her guts. Damnit, Mot! You goody-two-shoes! She wanted to tell him. Despite her tiny grudge she knew he was trustworthy, and damn...she really didn't like lying to so many people.

"...Can you keep a secret?"

Amrita didn't doubt his promise.

Yet that didn't stop her from looking around the room, and then down at her lap, fidgeting for a moment in silence. She was still hesitant, not because she didn't trust Mot, but that she didn't know who was listening. Otto was hot on her heels with the truth, and she was paranoid that he'd be listening to her through her tag. She didn't want to blow her cover, but she didn't want to continue lying any longer: Moon had been right. It was exhausting.

"I...I'm not really sick. I'm wounded." She murmured quietly, lightly pushing the blanket down so she could pull up the hem of her shirt, showing just a glance of the dark, stained bandages that covered her stomach. "I don't heal as well as I used to, but I didn't want anyone to worry about me or make me go to Cricket or Mal. So I...I pretended to be sick. It seemed easier."

"This is nothing. You should see my whole arm." The one she had very obviously been trying to not move this whole time. The one whose shoulder has a nice hole in it, along with a mangled forearm. Damn hunter.

"I know! I'm trying to be careful, I promise!" Well, this time she hadn't intended on battling a Hunter. It just happened. She sounded distressed, dropping her 'I'm okay' act in front of someone she was surprised she trusted. "My healing hasn't been the same since the Hunters kidnapped me. I've been trying to keep it under wraps..." What was it about him that made her spill her guts? Damn that Mot!

"Oh, trust me, I plan in doing very little for another week, until these damn things close. You don't have to take care of me though..."

"It was a hunter. Who knows why they do the things they do. I tried to get away, but..." Well, that part was mostly a lie, but it sounded better than the alternative.

"Well...I'd appreciate the company, at least." She admitted in a small voice. "And I could definitely use another fear healer. I did the healing training and I can heal myself through skills but... did what I could. Clearly not enough, but I really don't wanna go to Cricket." She didn't particularly trust the teachers, especially since one of them turned out to be the Leader of the Hunters. She was relieved that admitting most of the truth garnered some positive responses, and was willing to just accept the help now that she didn't have to pretend.

"Should I take off my shirt?" It was an innocent question and nothing more. Wounds were easier to heal when you could see them.

Amrita nodded towards a tackle box by her desk. It was a giant first aid kit; apparently she got hurt a lot, or knew too many people who did. He had gotten up and she pressed her lips together, psyching herself up for the daunting task of lifting her arms high enough to remove her shirt.

It took a pain filled moment - and a pain filled cry - to get her shirt off. She had gone with the 'like a bandaid approach', fast enough to deny her body a chance to stop her. It meant she was in more pain now that it was off, but at least it was off.

Her stomach was bandaged, as was her right shoulder and down her right arm, the latter seemed to be bandaged thicker than the others though, and judging by the strain of the bandages, tighter as well.

"Stomach wound, shoulder wound, and a broken arm. I put the bone back, but I can't exactly wear a brace when I'm pretending I'm sick." She explained with a strained chuckle, still stinging from the removal of her shirt. Her face was okay; the side that should have been injured was already down to bone. Nothing there to really fix.

"But I don't have any..." Amrita whined, regretting not having a more extensive wardrobe. "My clothing is mostly dresses without sleeves, or jackets that don't quite cover my wounded areas." Like the jacket she wore for most of last year; it had long sleeves, but a wide collar. Her shoulder would have shown easily. The ghoul stayed quiet at the offer. He'd bring her shirts? His shirts? But he was a bean pole! She was pretty slender too, but...she was built with curves, and he was a bean pole! Instead her attention moved to the poncho as well, offering a little sheepish smile in return.

"Err, yeah, I didn't realize I was still wearing it until I got home. I thought about putting it on over the bandages but...didn't wanna get it bloody." She explained softly, flinching as his wound-cleaning hit a particularly deep wound. "I always imagined that being an undead meant I wouldn't feel as much as I do." She mused, likely not realizing she was in fact speaking out loud.