Harriet is lying on the examination table in the medical bay, her eyes fixed to one spot on the wall. The doctor reappears, clearing his throat, attempting to get Harriet's attention. She continues to stare at the wall, silently. Doctor: You're awake, that's good. Quite a tumble you had out there. Do you remember it? Harriet shakes her head, wincing from the pain. Doctor: I've arranged for you to be transferred to the local hospital. You're going to need a CT scan to check the extent of your injuries. This might be serious, but until we see the scan we can't be sure. Her eyes are still fixed to the spot on the wall as if he had never spoken to her. Doctor: Miss Vargas, did you hear what I just said? Harriet: Yes. She replies quietly, the usual agression and harsh tone is missing from her voice. Doctor: You're not going to be able to drive yourself, so you need to get a ride to the hospital. Who should I call? Harriet: Nobody. Doctor: What about one of the wrestlers you travel with? Harriet: I don't travel with anybody. Doctor: How about your manager? Harriet: Don't have one. Guy was so far past useless I couldn't bear it, got rid of him. The doctor blows out a frustrated breath. At this rate he'll be driving her. Doctor: Okay. Well what should I do? There has to be somebody I can call. Harriet: There isn't. Just call me a cab, I don't need anybody. Harriet sits up slowly, hands gripping at the edge of the table. Doctor: Maybe you ought to consider making some friends around here. Can't be easy constantly fighting every single person that you come into contact with. You need to have somebody to have your back. Personally, I don't see what you get out of it. The doctor watches her, waiting for a response. Finally, she makes eye contact withh him. Harriet: Please could you call me a cab?