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"A chair. Sure. And something to drink?" Max looked around, noticing for the first time just how many people were injured and how much blood coated the inside of the library. Detective Mercer was going to be pissed. And that new guy who never smiled. For the life of him, Max couldn't remember his name.

"My shoulder hurts, but... I would agree." It concerned him, this concussion, but not enough for him to go anywhere or seek out additional help just yet. "The thing. The guy that did this is gone?"

Hearing his name was like a burst of clarity. The screaming ebbed, the movement around him blurred; it felt like he was underwater, but rather than feel fear, Shiloh felt momentary peace. It was like there was nothing, like there was just him and no danger. His head had swiveled towards the sound of Chris' voice, but when he opened his own mouth nothing came out.

That was fine. Mr. Watts was okay—that was a nice thought. Shiloh was also okay. Everything was okay.

Snap back to reality: there was a hand on his person and a face in front of his that he recognized immediately. He could smell the blood again, he could see the mangled mauled mess around him, he could feel his heart pulsing uncomfortably in his neck and his chest and his wrists.

"I'm... okay?" was he? He wasn't hurt, not physically. He couldn't tear his eyes from Thorne's, even though he wasn't necessarily looking at him, but past him. He drew in a shaky breath.

"I... yeah. Yeah..." he was nodding slowly, carefully coming back into focus. He squeezed his eyes shut, looking down at the ground when he opened them again. This calmness wasn't... it wasn't a good calm, it was eerie and forced; the sort of calm that he always felt after fights or during them or after his Dad. It was stone cold.

Because it had to be.

"I'm fine." he was closing up, but it was instinct. "Everyone else..." he forced his gaze up again, looking at the bloodshed, eyes still a little hazy. Among the chaos he caught Chris a second time, and he felt real relief at knowing he was okay (though, tending someone who was wounded, which made Shiloh cringe internally). Immediately aware of the situation again, Shiloh found himself wanting answers.

"W-What happened?" as if Thorne would know, "That guy, he— he became a monster, or—" he caught himself, less he fall back into unintelligible panic.

Maeve appraised Leila with the kind of glance that should have dragged strangers into bed. Her lipstick was smudged and needed touching up, but she supposed that was part of the post-apocalyptic look, wasn't it? (Yes. She had looked in a mirror. She had a reputation to uphold.)

Striding to the other woman, she gave a smile, her lips curling into a slow, cat-like expression. "It's alright," she said, "I was in need of a new dress anyways. Armani and I just don't seem to have a happy ending in store." She took some of bandages from Leila, glancing at the frenzied crowd. "Bandages might be the least of your worries if we have a round two."

She dropped a wink at Leila. "I already told you my price. I suppose you'll just have to start a tab with me, won't you?"

In spite of all the tension and drama, Maeve's teasing made Leila go bright red, and her fingers wriggled over the handle of the case full of bandages and antiseptics. She steeled herself, though, shaking her head -- which did nothing for her persistent blushing, unfortunately -- and shoved the proffered items into Maeve's hands while trying not to dwell on how their fingers touched.

"s**t. Look. I... I'd love to have this conversation," she started, half-pleading, "but with my wife around. And when there's not an emergency. We'll pick this up later, promise. I saw it in your future."

And with that, she stormed back into the crowd, shouting with all the volume she could muster: "HEY! I HAVE BANDAGES! Please help people find me if they need them!"

"Of course, detective." He gave Shun a sidelong look of do you see this and ever so slightly wiggled the card in quiet triumph before pocketing it. A follow up and burgeoning, tentative evidence of something from the beyond? If there weren't so many people hurt, he would have celebrated.

For now, Jack flipped to the clearest photo of the creature he had and gazed at it for a moment, wondering. Mildly dreading. Curious of what exactly that meant. "Guess that's your gorilla suit," he added to Shun with grim satisfaction. Werewolf. And if that one was, then maybe...

A shout distracted him. He turned to the woman and headed over, remembering the state Chel's friend had been in--not to mention he wouldn't mind covering his own slashes. As Connor went to look them over, Jack approached the woman and asked, "May I have some? A little is fine if you have a limited supply."

He had come here on a whim. He had come here for the job fair. He had come here to pick up pamphlets and observe and maybe network a little if anything managed to catch his eye. He absolutely did not come here to get thrust into a maelstrom of shrieking panic.

For the first several minutes, Ian was too far from the scene to even know what had happened. Then he saw someone sporting a bloody gash. Then more someones. Police were gathering and the crowd was going nuts. Monster?

Where he stood, a break in the crowd showed him an awful scene still too distant to glean any details. There was a lot of blood, a woman holding another as she bled out, and there Ian froze until something very heavy and very human shaped shoved against his back. He startled forward and stumbled as he turned to face whoever rammed him -- only to find a grumpy face he almost couldn't place but was certain he knew.

"You--?" for a second, it almost sounded accusatory, but was quickly replaced with concern, "Are you hurt?"

"Expect the suspect to be armed and dangerous, Sergeant. We know about the claws," something about the way he said that, "but nothing else. We are, in this, blind." Not entirely. Jeremiah had an idea about what he was dealing with but Shun had not proven himself as someone who could be trusted.

Not to Jeremiah.

He gave a short nod to Jack. "Look me up later and we can talk." The detective lieutenant ignored the triumphant wiggle of the business card, more interested in the knowledge Jack likely had as a civilian looking in. It was something to know and maybe they were reaching the point where keeping parts of this shush were not going to work anymore.

Not that it mattered at the moment. "Check on the people in the area one more time, Kuroda, and then we can regroup to start searching. We should have reinforcements within the next few minutes." With a clipped nod he was turning on his heel to head back to where Algie was with Aleksy, Finn, and the others.

He got back just in time to see Aleksy struggle against the stitches being made. Jeremiah was beside Algie in a moment, his hand sliding along his spouse's arm. In another breath his fingers were going through red hair briefly. To draw attention. "Lisichya," he said again, because he was certain it would get some focus; a rarely used nickname, "they're trying to put you back together. You need to be still." Blue-green eyes glanced over to Algie, Finn, Alois, and then back down to Aleksy.

Jeremiah was a little tired of people he cared about being injured but at least ... At least it looked like Alois was able to do work and if need be, he could help hold Aleksy while Algie was calming him somewhat.