While the oxygen mask was fixed firmly around her mouth and nose, Olivia took the opportunity to swipe a handful of alcohol swabs from a drawer and a hand mirror from beside the sink.  Gingerly, she sat on the edge of a cot, drew back her hood and tore open the first packet.<br/><br/>She was a fright, with small cuts trailing blood into her tangled, dishevelled blonde hair, and dirt smudging her cheeks, nose and chin.  "Good lord," she mumbled beneath the hiss of oxygen, and began dabbing at her face.    She wiggled her nose, wincing at the ache and the sting of alcohol on the scrapes, but it didn't feel broken.  She hadn't been looking forward to another rhinoplasty anyway.