Lyra's heart pounded against her ribs as she stared at the photo on Percival's tablet. The grainy image showed her walking away from the accident scene, face partially turned away from the camera. She hadn't known anyone was taking pictures.
"I..." she began, then stopped, unsure how to respond.
Percival set the tablet down on his desk. "Why let Orla take credit?"
Lyra sighed, shoulders slumping slightly. "I didn't know she had. I just did what anyone would do."
"Pulling someone from a burning car isn't what 'anyone' would do," Percival said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Most people would have called for help and kept their distance."
"I couldn't just watch," Lyra explained, remembering the fear that had gripped her that day. "The car was smoking. There wasn't time to wait."
Percival studied her face with an intensity that made her skin warm. "And you never told anyone?"
"What would be the point? I didn't do it for recognition."
