<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/58/Li_Na_Wimbledon_2013.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:  Lia Tun (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=193353.msg9398302#msg9398302)<br/><strong>Nationality</strong>: Zan'ani<br/><strong>Location</strong>:  Intensive care, her mother's bed side<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>:  Danielle Chandler<br/><br/>Lia blinked in the light. The light level in he room hadn't changed but it felt to her tired eyes that someone was shining a light directly into them. She slowly focussed on the nurse, a haze of orange topping a dazzlingly green uniform. "Mnyu!" She managed not to say, freed her tongue from the roof of her mouth and tried again. "Thank you, Nurse." She blushed a little and smiled shyly. "I guess there's no need for me to say who I am, hmm?" She waved a hand giving unnecessary permission for the nurse to enter and do her job. The tennis player watched the slightly older woman do her stuff, checking pulse, taking temperature, changing dressings, checking the chart, and the readouts from the annoying bleep-machine.<br/><br/>When the nurse finished, Lia forced herself to ask the question that she desperately needed answered. "Will she be okay?"<br/><br/>The assertion that her mother was lucky made the young celebrity glare angrily at the nurse. She knew she was overreacting,that the woman was trying to reassure her, but the words just blurted out before she could stop them. "Lucky? How is getting hit by a truck with no brakes, lucky?" She was on her feet, she realised, glaring at the poor woman who was only doing her job. She sagged against the wall of the room. "I'm sorry. I know you didn't mean it like that. I just..." She sighed a deep sigh and then sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand and dived ino the pocket of her jeans for a tissue, found one and blew her nose, then looked for somewhere to dispose oof the item.<br/><br/>She located the bin with the help of the pretty nurse, and in the process caught sight of her reflection in a mirror. "Damn, I look terrible." She cringed, then turned o look at nurse Chandler. "I need to ask you something... woman to woman? I know this is going to sound callous, but part of who I am is wrapped up in my public image, that mum created for me. She and dad. It's why they love me. If I don't ever win another tennis match, they will love me."<br/><br/>She grimaced at her reflection. "If they see me like this... Does it make me look human and approachable, or does i just make me look terrible?" Lia knew what the answer should be, the answer she wanted to hear. To appear in public having just flown ten thousand miles, on hearing the news of her parents' accident and then spending a further - she checked the clock - four hours by her mother's bedside, surely no-one would expect her to look like she just stepped out of a salon?<br/><br/>But she knew what the press were like. The Paparazzi - named, so she had learned, for the annoying mosquito-like buzzing of shutters and motor-winders - would take any photograph of her looking less than her best and save it, then publish it months later and totally out of context, in an attempt to smear her image.<br/><br/>The sportswoman looked hopefully at the medical woman.<br/><br/>She shook her head at the answer. "It doesn't matter really. I need to fix my face before I go out and face them."<br/><br/>She sat down again. "Nurse, please, do you have to go anywhere? I mean, I don't want to keep you from your duties, but I could use someone to talk to, if it's no trouble?"