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Tommy can't help but admire the man's resolve. His grin proves it as he continues to work over Richard. "You know, I'd always thought you'd be a better liar than that," he says with a chuckle. "Hold on, this is gonna hurt like hell...stay awake damnit!" He puts some more pressure on the more serious of the wounds while tying off the bandages. After he's done with his impromptu first-aid, he sits back for a brief moment to look over everything. "Alright...Richard...you hear me? Richard, I'm going to pull you up now, alright? You gott help me though..." He attempts to pull up Richard, using the injured man's good arm to help him with it. "We gotta get you back to your duplex...alright? C'mon."

"It seems like it... sometimes. It seems so." She answered his words- that everything was wrong. Emelyn found it difficult to summon optomism in the face of ...this.

Emelyn blinked her eyes as if to push away tears- but there were none, and no moisture had collected there amongst her still so human eyelashes. Were she in the state to do so, she might've made a silent blessing, then, that she even still had eyelashes, and still had, if not completely human eyes, at least that color she had shared with her sister. It was the one thing they still had in common. ...If you can have anything, that is, in common with the dead.

But Emelyn was not in the state to appreciate this small thanksgiving- and really, she wasn't even in a place to be able to help Miller. All she could offer him were scraps of advice- frayed bits of concern and hope that seemed to have been torn off something used... discarded.

"So few of those are subjects. ...Many of us are still here. Still..." she didn't say alive, but the unspoken word hung in the night air, dangling like an insect on a long line of webbing between them in the pause that separated her words. "...I'm sorry that you're here. For your sake. But I think... I think you might be okay." She put a tentative, furred hand out to touch the boy's shoulder, but her eyes did not focus on his face. They looked beyond him- over the tombstones, and into the sky.

A small smile which held no mirth at all turned up the edges of the line that halved her hedgehog-muzzle. "Thanks for the concern... but I think I'll be a while longer... here." The thought of moving, returning to 'the party' tightened her gut. She didn't bother to tell the boy that she was used to being out 'late'- and that she actually felt more comfortable there in the 'wild', than at the village- even with the emotional turmoil her self-imposed isolation had caused her, she still felt more at ease there than in Moreau's mock civilization.

Miller's own half smile faultered at the hedgehog girls response, he didn't want to be alone on his way back, nor did he wish to stay here for the night. Still he respected her choice, she knew some of these people and that alone could justify anything she did right now. "Umm alright... I'll be here incase you need something..." he mumbled softly.

At this moment he heard somthing paceing not to far down the path. Instinct took over and Miller grabed the closest rock before sneaking over towards Thom, it wasn't till a few moments latter that he realized it was the same snake man from the party. "Jesus Thom... I thought me and her where the only ones still here..."

Lost in thought, Thom completely failed to notice Miller's approach until the younger man spoke. Jumping visably, he spun around to face Miller, relaxing once he recognized the 'normie'. "Can't sneak up on people after that hike, lad." He paused, craning his head to peek past Miller towards the woman. "...S'that Emelyn? Why 'aven't you two 'eaded back to th' tent? Everyone else left a while ago."

Emelyn huffed another breath through her nostrils. They were moistening to the chilled night air- tensing in preparation for what might be a keen time for foraging.

"I'm fine on my own." It was not easy to annoy the woman- but in a way, she was- though the emotion registered deep beneath sadness, and her voice cracked in the middle. It was as if she meant more by her words than simply tonight.

Emelyn lifted her head with great effort, and looked- not beyond the man who spoke to her, as she'd done with Miller- but directly into Thom's eyes. She was not laughing.

"You're wearing a dress because they glued you into it. ...And he's laying in that grave because they put him there." Her voice croaked in and out of a hoarse whisper.