[Tris looks, appropriately, like death warmed over. She's propped on a sofa in Harry's cabin by the time she gets around to making a shipwide announcement.] I'll be scarce for the next week. If anyone needs me, try the cabin I share with Harry. Cabin 1, Level 2.

I wouldn't say no to company or books, and I'll probably need a hand hobbling over to the Enclosure in a couple days.

[Private to Jon, Demona, and Lark]

I got myself killed by our newest arrival. Does anyone have time to take my shifts this week?

[Spam for Fives and Harry]

Tris jolts awake with a soft cry, then raises a hand to her chest, wincing. She knows where she is, and visibly relaxes when she sees both Fives and Harry nearby. She whispers, "Did someone take care of him?"