Marco, Callum, Rose, and OPEN
Rose never slept until the circus was ready to shut down, dark and quiet for the remainder of the night and part of the day, and she always stopped in at the Bandaid Station at close even if she wasn't on duty. No one went to bed with an untreated injury, and she liked to be near in case whoever was scheduled in the clinic needed a hand. Workaholic with a hovering problem? Probably. She didn't care.
She'd popped out for a bite to eat back at her trailer, enjoying the walk with the faint stirrings of an ease she hadn't felt since her very youngest days. Until the quiet was shattered by the sound of sirens, gunshots, screaming. Instinct and training took over and she ran for the clinic, bursting through the door and moving with purpose to the bright red bag that held her trauma kit - all the gauze, bandages, meds, and surgical tools that she could fit in the thing. If only she'd had half these things when trying to put men back together for another go in the trenches all those decades ago.
She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed towards the sound of the loudest commotion, keeping to the edge of the Midway so as not to get caught up in those fleeing for the exit. Sharp eyes spotted a figure ahead, dropping to its knees before slumping all the way down in the particularly boneless way one fell when passed out. She changed direction and headed for that body, dropping to her knees and letting the bag hit the ground at her side. One hand went straight for a particular zipper, pulling out a sterile gauze pad while the other pulled up his shirt to expose the gunshot wound. A shifter, she could sense, letting her magic work as she ripped open the sterile pad's packaging with her teeth and slapped it over his wound. She worked from the inside out, knitting together torn flesh and vessels, stopping the bleeding, a flood of warmth from the hand over the wound while she reached with the other to check his pulse, check his breathing, scan his body for any other wounds. A sharp pain bloomed on her side, the mirror to his wound, but she breathed through it. It would pass soon enough.