01-28-2020, 08:20 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 450px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 9pt;"]Edmund's grating voice over the walkie-talkie had also woken Elwin up from a particularly good nap. Well, you can't really call being passed out on the floor in the hall a nap, but damn if he doesn't wake up feeling refreshed.
Feeling like a zombie, he gets to his feet (or spends five minutes trying) and stumbles his way outside, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Two dozen people doesn't seem like that much by the way Edmund phrased it... at least not until he's faced with a giant crowd of injured people. That sure wakes him up. Sheesh, what are they going to do with so many people? Does Flintlock even have room?
Elwin runs a hand through his hair and heaves a loud, shaky sigh. Oh, boy. He knows he should get moving, especially with his newly-assigned role of medic, but... wow. There's so many people in one place. He doesn't think this many people even lived in his old village.
After a solid minute or two of staring, his body starts to move on its own. On his way towards the crowd, he nearly ends up crashing into Freddie, who is leading some soft-featured woman into the lodge behind him. Why just that one? Maybe he knows her. Either way, he'd rather take on chunks of them rather than pick them out one by one. As long as they form a nice, straight line.
"Alright," he calls in an uncertain voice. "If any of you got somethin' that's broken, outta place, or bleeding, follow me inside and I'll ... help you, I guess." Flintlock is very different compared to the old village infirmary. He'll just have to figure it out as he goes.
A young girl, about five or six, comes up to him and presents a small scrape on her arm. It's barely even bleeding. Elwin can't help but scoff and roll his eyes. "Not what I meant," he says to the girl, but she just shoves her arm further into his face. "Just put pressure on it."
What does she expect him to do, kiss it better? She's probably at the very bottom of his list of priorities. He can see other worse injuries that demand immediate attention, but when he tries to step away, the little girl grabs the hem of his shirt and points again at her scrape.
"You're fine," he says, forcibly detaching the girl's hand from his shirt. Then, glancing back at Freddie's retreating form, a lightbulb goes off over his head. Kneeling to be eye-level with the girl, he whispers lowly to her, "See that guy? He'll take care of that scratch for you." And with that, he whirls her around by the shoulders, and sends her after Freddie and his female counterpart.
Patting himself on the back for a job well done, he turns to the few others that have begun to gather around him, looking just as unsure as he had sounded earlier. Shit, he thinks, heartbeat picking up pace, now how am I going to deal with these guys?
Feeling like a zombie, he gets to his feet (or spends five minutes trying) and stumbles his way outside, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Two dozen people doesn't seem like that much by the way Edmund phrased it... at least not until he's faced with a giant crowd of injured people. That sure wakes him up. Sheesh, what are they going to do with so many people? Does Flintlock even have room?
Elwin runs a hand through his hair and heaves a loud, shaky sigh. Oh, boy. He knows he should get moving, especially with his newly-assigned role of medic, but... wow. There's so many people in one place. He doesn't think this many people even lived in his old village.
After a solid minute or two of staring, his body starts to move on its own. On his way towards the crowd, he nearly ends up crashing into Freddie, who is leading some soft-featured woman into the lodge behind him. Why just that one? Maybe he knows her. Either way, he'd rather take on chunks of them rather than pick them out one by one. As long as they form a nice, straight line.
"Alright," he calls in an uncertain voice. "If any of you got somethin' that's broken, outta place, or bleeding, follow me inside and I'll ... help you, I guess." Flintlock is very different compared to the old village infirmary. He'll just have to figure it out as he goes.
A young girl, about five or six, comes up to him and presents a small scrape on her arm. It's barely even bleeding. Elwin can't help but scoff and roll his eyes. "Not what I meant," he says to the girl, but she just shoves her arm further into his face. "Just put pressure on it."
What does she expect him to do, kiss it better? She's probably at the very bottom of his list of priorities. He can see other worse injuries that demand immediate attention, but when he tries to step away, the little girl grabs the hem of his shirt and points again at her scrape.
"You're fine," he says, forcibly detaching the girl's hand from his shirt. Then, glancing back at Freddie's retreating form, a lightbulb goes off over his head. Kneeling to be eye-level with the girl, he whispers lowly to her, "See that guy? He'll take care of that scratch for you." And with that, he whirls her around by the shoulders, and sends her after Freddie and his female counterpart.
Patting himself on the back for a job well done, he turns to the few others that have begun to gather around him, looking just as unsure as he had sounded earlier. Shit, he thinks, heartbeat picking up pace, now how am I going to deal with these guys?
[sub]the artist formerly known as hal[/sub]
Hoot gives Hal’s body a hug