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Shun raised his brow at Jack. The guy almost looked... excited? He wasn't completely sure what that waggle was, nor did it really matter all too much.

"Of course, Detective," he said lowly, in regards to how to treat the suspect. Underestimating something like that would be a deadly mistake. Stepping back, he gave Mercer a curt nod before going back towards the bulk of the crowd. He heard Leila calling out for bandages, then headed over to grab some from her. Not for himself, however. He didn't deem his own injuries serious enough to be using up resources at the moment. Once the more critically wounded were dealt with, then maybe he'd take some for his cut.

But until then, he was on the look out for anyone that seemed like they needed aid and wasn't receiving it just yet. After a little bit of searching, he spotted a familiar cook who had a shirt wrapped up around his arm at the moment.

"In need of assistance?" he asked, flicking his gaze between him, the man with him, and the woman that had just stepped up to check on Nasir as well.

[taking bandages since Cib said it was cool!]

Armed with at least a modicum of resources for first aid, Jack made his way back. At the very least it didn't look like either Connor or Chel were hurt. "Here," he said as he passed the bandages to the former. "Let's see that EMT training put to use."

Assuming Connor would start with Chel's friend first, Jack took a seat by them and began to inspect his photos more closely. "Holy s**t...God, claws and everything, right there," he mused aloud. "There might be more of them out there. A pack."

Belatedly, he look up at Chel and waved her off. Maybe it would have looked better if there wasn't dried blood in small rivulets down his arms. "These aren't even deep. Worth it for the shots."

"Yeah, take a look at her at least." She patted Diana's back and gestured to Connor. "He's been goin' to nurse school or some s**t so he'll fix y'up real good." She put a hand on Jack's head- you too.

She looked to the stairs and said, "I'm gonna go upstairs an' check f'anyone needs help gettin' down." She wasn't sure that anyone up there would have been affecting by the were situation, but she always wasn't sure to what degree their attacker could move.

"Send Shun's gun after me if I don't come back," she said with a laugh, but there was a hint of genuine fear behind her voice.

"Do I ********> look hurt?" So, not bad then.

Ian squinted at the initial reaction but it didn't seem to take long for her to recognize him, too. Unfortunately (or fortunately?), no, he didn't seen what happened -- only the aftermath, distant between moving bodies, but even that had been more than he wanted. He shook his head and grimaced at the gash on her head as he tried to get a better look at it without being invasive. "Did you?"

For lack of anything else, Ian untied the thin shirt around his waist and offered it to Preacher to blot up some of the blood. "Let's get you gauze," he suggested after a short glance around the booths, still rendered into chaos but a chaos that was dwindling into first-aid.

The Semblance of Unity

preacher he really wants to help you but also wtf are ur boundaries

btw anyone else can approach

it's true

[Cataleen with the slash wound near the Sweet Spot Booth]

Cataleen hadn't seen what had hit her. She'd been fishing change out of her purse to pay for a shake when the screams had broken out. Something about someone having a seizure? No, a wolf?

Then something had hit her, knocking her down beside the booth, and it was several moments before she got her breath back. She tried to move, and immediately realized something was wrong with her back. When she was little, about ten, she'd been playing in the kitchen, and managed to slice her thumb with a knife. This sensation was the same. Air was meeting bits of flesh it had no business touching. There was no pain. Yet. Cataleen took advantage of its lack.

She hauled herself to her feet using the edge of the booth. Oh, thank god, the others were still here!

"My back!" she gasped, hoping one of them could help her. Though judging by the state of poor Dawson, they might have their hands full already.

((Cataleen's got some nice slash marks running down her back on the left side, over her ribs.))




[Tooly with the moderate concussion near the bookshelves]

Tooly had originally gone to the Library to look up some books on old movie makeup, but had perused the job fair for the heck of it (and the free refreshments). There were actually some pretty interesting ones available. The PD had showed up, but Tooly's favorite had been the taxidermy booth. The macabre displays tickled Tooly's muse, and she had retreated to a table to sketch out some quick make-up ideas when all hell broke loose at the fair.

Tooly quickly took out her phone and started recording, thinking that someone ought to document what was going on for later legal use (and views...). She got a good look at the werewolf, and remembered thinking that it was a damn good makeup when the monster almost casually knocked her aside.

Tooly flew backward into the bookshelves, her head connecting with the wood. She was knocked unconscious instantly, and her arms flew outward in the fencing response.

Hux chuckled nervously, sounding somewhat breathless. "Well I did get hit with the shelf but... it's nothing too serious. Just a bump on the head, maybe a few stitches... I don't think I'm concussed. I've been so before and I don't feel like I did then..." He felt tense, distracted. His mind was replaying the events that had transpired over and over. He was thankful that Margaery and the kids were out of town for the weekend, visiting the kids' grandparents. He didn't want them anywhere near the town, not with that maniac on the loose.

Hux allowed himself to lean his long frame slightly onto the other man; though, of course, he was careful not to let too much of himself rely on the other for support. He was a big guy, after all. 6'6 and muscular from his endless days of travel. He very rarely expected people to give him too much assistance.

When the woman mentioned snacks, Hux's stomach growled, but he couldn't help but think there were much more important things to attend to. How could he even consider eating, when there were people- dead people- in the same room as him? Just the thought of such a thing made his stomach knot up painfully again, but he did his best to combat the sudden wave of nausea by leaning forward and gulping down the stream of water from the library's fountain. It didn't do a lot, but it got the taste of bile off his tongue and alleviated at least some of the tension keeping his muscles taut.

"Thanks," he murmured. "For the help over here... I know I'm a pretty big person... er- I'm Huxtable, by the way. Huxtable Keighley. Just Hux is fine, though."

At Alois's prompting, Finn scooted around behind Aleksy and held his shoulders down. "I know it ******** sucks," he said softly. "You gotta hold still. It's gonna be okay." He hated having to hold Aleksy down against his will, but Alois managed to finish the stitches.

"Thanks--" he began, but the impromptu surgeon had already risen to his feet and was slipping away.

"We should, um, put some dressing over that, yeah?" he asked, looking uncertainly at the three adults hovering over Aleksy. The stitches were holding, yeah, but bandages seemed like they were in order - to give Aleksy some modesty, if nothing else. "Does anyone have, like, a sweatshirt or something? For him. Not me. Um."

"You're doing great, Lyosha," he said, cringing down at Aleksy.