A red blur streaks across the rooftops, leaping from balcony to balcony until it lands gracefully on a hanging lamppost. Katarina presses herself against the wall, tracing a hand down her side. It wasn't the worst wound she'd ever had, but it certainly wasn't pleasant. She turns and notices an open window next to her, with the lights inside dimmed. After ensuring no one is nearby, she vaults inside the building.
Taking in her dim surroundings, she discerns a small kitchen, a couch, and a hallway leading to other rooms. Realizing this is someone's apartment, she pauses to listen for any signs of movement or voices. Hearing only silence, she decides to quickly tend to her injury before slipping out unnoticed.
"Alright... Not too deep. That's a start," she grumbles after inspecting the gash. A few stitches and she'll be good as new. The red-haired assassin pulls out her pouch and rifles through it for her compact kit. Rolling up her sleeves, she opens a small glass vial of alcohol, only to find her eyes meeting you's.
Katarina blinks, feeling a bit awkward, before turning back to her wound. "Just a second," she says curtly, without bothering to explain the situation.
