[It hadn't been an easy day. Several patients had been lost, the stress from the sudden upheaval too much for them- some hadn't made it to the evacuation zone in time. Soldiers succumbed to their wounds, and now they were short-staffed. Angela hadn't bothered idling around with those in charge, trying to come up with a solution for where they were headed from here- they can worry about that when they've patched up the wounded and laid the dead to rest.
The working conditions were worse than they were back in the camp, but she tried to make do with what she had. Nobody blamed her when she was unable to save a young soldier- not even her staff could keep up with several bullets that had spent several hours lodged in the chest of a young woman.
She retreats to a makeshift cleaning station that was little more than two buckets. As she rinses the blood off of her gloves, she bitterly notes if their injuries don't kill these people, there's a good chance an infection might.
She feels him there before he speaks and some of the tension immediately leaves her body. When she looks at him there's a tired, if relieved look on her face- she reaches out a hand to touch him but barely manages to stop herself.]
Are you injured? [She tries to keep her tone neutral, but the way her eyes frantically search his body for any visible wounds tells a different story. Regardless, she presses a gentle touch to his shoulder and begins to lead him out into an unused hallway under the guise of a doctor leading her patient.
The hall itself is too small and damaged to be of any real use- Angela sneaks one glance back through the doorway to make sure nobody had seen them.]
I had forgotten how much you Blackwatch agents love your dramatic entrances. [It's meant to be a light jest, but her tired tone and the way her shoulder droop say she's not quite in the mood for joking.]
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The working conditions were worse than they were back in the camp, but she tried to make do with what she had. Nobody blamed her when she was unable to save a young soldier- not even her staff could keep up with several bullets that had spent several hours lodged in the chest of a young woman.
She retreats to a makeshift cleaning station that was little more than two buckets. As she rinses the blood off of her gloves, she bitterly notes if their injuries don't kill these people, there's a good chance an infection might.
She feels him there before he speaks and some of the tension immediately leaves her body. When she looks at him there's a tired, if relieved look on her face- she reaches out a hand to touch him but barely manages to stop herself.]
Are you injured? [She tries to keep her tone neutral, but the way her eyes frantically search his body for any visible wounds tells a different story. Regardless, she presses a gentle touch to his shoulder and begins to lead him out into an unused hallway under the guise of a doctor leading her patient.
The hall itself is too small and damaged to be of any real use- Angela sneaks one glance back through the doorway to make sure nobody had seen them.]
I had forgotten how much you Blackwatch agents love your dramatic entrances. [It's meant to be a light jest, but her tired tone and the way her shoulder droop say she's not quite in the mood for joking.]