"Just make sure that any fixing is how you want it to be, and not how other people think you should be," Yelena says firmly. Or at least as firm as one can be while bundled up in a sickbed.

She goes a little cross-eyed peering up at his finger. It looks ridiculous, and is very much deliberate. She acquiesces to the silent order, sinking back against her propped up pillows, though not without a huff of exasperation. She's never had any sort of accelerated healing. That doesn't mean she isn't annoyed with her body for not returning to normal function now, for needing things like rest and quiet and painkillers that fog her thoughts more than she's comfortable with.