[She is a soldier, and has spent her life in the barracks and campsites of men and women alike; her body is a tool to her and as such, disrobing does not seem like such a big deal.
Until she remembers who it is who is in the room with her, and then her blush makes much more sense.
She nods and hurries away, feeling embarrassed and foolish, and is very glad to find the human children sleeping upstairs. It doesn't take long to rouse them, or for them to find her appropriate clothing she can slip into, and soon she is padding back downstairs on bare feet, a rough dress of warm wool covering her long limbs as she braids her hair over her shoulder.]
no subject
Until she remembers who it is who is in the room with her, and then her blush makes much more sense.
She nods and hurries away, feeling embarrassed and foolish, and is very glad to find the human children sleeping upstairs. It doesn't take long to rouse them, or for them to find her appropriate clothing she can slip into, and soon she is padding back downstairs on bare feet, a rough dress of warm wool covering her long limbs as she braids her hair over her shoulder.]
Let me look at your wound.