The screaming and bleeding didn't make him flinch; the hatred he saw in those eyes did.
A stoic chill settled over him as Jack stood, the same that let him endure her thrashing in the rain. Implications and revelations could wait. There was a patient and blood and pleading, and his instinct was easy to follow.
"Let me in," he said to no-one in particular as he went for the supplies.
Little miracles, maybe someone else did give a s**t. He heard someone protest opening the door, maybe the same guy who had interrupted them earlier (he didn't know and didn't care for the faceless inconsequentials), but all he said in return was a more forceful, "She needs medical attention, you ******** sorry excuse for a hunter."
Someone was already working the door open as he got the kit. Someone else looked ready to summon his weapon. A mic flared on as yet another ordered Chel to back away from the door. Pencils scratched. Murmurs began again. Someone left the room to alert someone else. The ambient noise became blurred together to him.
When the door opened, Jack and another Lifer entered to tend to her. "She seized," the latter said as they began to force her to lie back down. "What
was that?"
"Just focus on cleaning up," Jack replied as he opened the kit and got to work.
