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The youth was surprised at how quickly he went from being alone, to being surrounded by what was, in his hopeful opinion, two helpers. He looked up at Gervain.

"I think so..." he murmured worriedly, "I know he's breathing." Kalen was certain of that fact.

When Cameron came up, he seemed a little stunned. What happened? Was it... not obvious? "He got hit by my cab," he replied before adding to either of them, "Can someone see if the cab driver's all right? He hasn't been out of the car... and can one of you hail a new taxi?"

Kalen removed his other glove and checked Skyy's head to make sure it wasn't bleeding. However, when he felt his fingers run over matted hair, thick with blood, he cursed internally. ...It..It'd been so long. He barely recalled homeomantic spells. What was it, now? Right...

Bending over the fallen one's head to block out any passersby from seeing-- well, as much as possible before murmuring very quietly, "Curia." A soft white light moved from his fingertips to heal the boy's head wound, terminating the bleeding. Kalen could heal more of him... but.. what if people saw? They were running out of time. Having missed the other's stirs, he still was waiting for some conscious act to demonstrate liveliness.

Gervain, who had been about to check on the driver, almost missed the flash of white light. So this person was a Homeomancer, was he? Or, at the very least, someone who had a little White Magic in them since the spell he had used was none too great. But he was a mage, all the same. The driver was dead - Gervain already knew that without looking. But he checked all the same to appear normal. His eyes closed for a moment and he seemed to sway slightly before his orange orbs snapped open again. The man, who had previously been perfectly still, was stirring. Gervain had caught his spirit easily as it had begun to ascend and forced it back into the body. There were no obvious signs that the man had died - with his small bit of Chronomancy, he had taken back the small bit of time that had wounded the man. The driver got out of the cab slowly, eyes dulled. He wasn't an old man, or even a middle-aged one. He was probably just out of college and looking for a steady job.

"DAMMIT!!!" Cameron yelled as the driver got out. Ignoring the looks from all around him, he stormed off to the graveyard.

For a moment when Kalen recognized him, Skyy thought he may just get up and leave him there in the road. A blanket of relief fell over him when the boy remained with him, though. Even seemed to want to help. He focused on the fingers probing for injuries.

A small grin of his own cracked with Kalen's last comment. Blood matted in his hair, laying in the road in the middle of New York.. He was pretty sure the boy wasn't being entirely sincere. "Thanks," he muttered. Once Kalen's fingers pressed into his lower left of his ribcage, he sharply sucked in air through clenched teeth. "Ow, ow.. There." He shrunk away from the pressing hand. It was obvious he was holding back any loud howls of pain by the concentrated crease in his brow.

Releasing a deep breathe, he nodded. "Yeah, there," he confirmed, before trying to move his leg. "My ankle as well.. I don't think it's broken, though. Probably just a sprain."

This is exactly what I was hinking about thought Cameron. I'm a failure. I can't even collect one body without others messing me up. He sat on a grave. What's the point anymore? Cameron started to cry. I'm an embarresment to my mom's name. He pulled out a knife from his pocket. Well, not for long.

Kalen finished opening his jacket before slipping a heated hand underneath the other's sweater. His body heat had countered the cold. "And I am not interested in anything 'funny,'" he responded, feeling that broken bone. There was terrible bruising as a result of the injury, no doubt. But... he could heal that later. Pressing his palm against the ribs where the injury was, he mumbled the cure spell under his breath and the broken bones mended, but were very weak. He kept a look of concern as he removed his hand and buttoned his jacket once more. "Okay... I'm going to get an ambulance here..."

Dialing 911, he gave their position in the city and then... all they could do was wait for the paramedics to get there.

Cameron placed the knife on his arm. He tried to continue, but it wouldn't budge. Move, dammit he thought to himself. But with no luck, he threw the knife across the graveyard. He put his face into his hands and began to weep.