[ wanda isn't fond of the fights here, but she's found that many other members of the displaced have reeled their way inside with raised fists, like moths to a flame, either as a way to occupy themselves in a place they have no escape from or simply out of their own personal thrill for embracing the violence.

she places no judgement on their choices, whether it's one or the other, but it does make her squirm a bit to see them stumble from the stage with their injuries, reminding her of a time in which pietro would often throw himself at anyone who so much as looked at her with an uncomfortable gaze, scrapes and bruises always inevitable for her to have to tend to afterwards.

it's why she can't help herself now, wanting to feel useful in keeping her hands busy, minor first aid supplies in hand as she awaits at the side of the stage. it's not as effective as some of the better tech they have for healing injuries, but in the midst of the violence, it's still possibly the quickest.

as the woman seems to stumble her way, expression seemingly excited about the fight that just knocked her out enough to make her bruise and bleed, wanda's unable to duck before the hand snags at her shoulder and she raises a quizzing brow. ]

Was it meant to be a performance? I hadn't realized. [ not too amused in her tone, she sighs, seemingly already tired despite not being the one throwing punches all night. ] Do you need some aid or have you already grown numb to the pain?