Once Griff was standing, he instantly regretted it. His head was spinning and now that he was stretched out and a little more aware of himself, he could feel a biting pain in his torso, just at the top of his left ribs. He decided that it was best not to look at it, especially when some careful prodding gave way to the warm wetness of blood. Pain was, after all, just a part of the mind and the mind responded so heavily to visual stimuli. So he opted not to pay it attention for now and to keep moving.
Once out in the aisle, he slowly inched his way down the slanted passageway, holding onto the overhead lockers and backs of chairs as he went. People were started to respond, heads started to move and Griff knew enough about these sorts of situations to know that they were on borrowed time. While it was good that people were responsive, people thrived off of each other and it was only a matter of time before group hysteria started to set in. All it would take was one. One person to start freaking out completely and the rest would follow.
Thankfully someone responded, this self-evaluation somewhat coherent. Griff’s eyes flicked to the front of the plane were another man was slowly getting to his feet. An Irishman. Griff smiled to himself, the expression probably looking more like a grimace. But it was good to hear a familiar accent even through all this chaos.
The man was bleeding profusely from the head which while worrying, was no doubt a look that they both shared given the circumstances.
“Alright people,” Griff said around a coughed clearing of his throat. “We have clearly crashed landed,” he stated what was clearly the obvious. But again, people were strange things and there was far more chance of chaos erupting if they were left to draw conclusions themselves. Saying things out in the open eliminating elements of doubt and panic and when it all boiled down to it, people were sheep. They liked instruction, especially in hard times. Someone to think for them and to take the pressure of a situation away.
“What I need you all to do…” he continued. Griff tried to gain eye contact from everyone as he hobbled along. His right ankle was killing him though he wasn’t sure if he’d damaged it in the crash or if his foot was simply numb from lack of movement. Maybe he was even going into shock himself, but years of disciplined training had taught him to detach himself from his body’s hurts.
“…Is to stay calm. I want you to start with your arms. Move them. Then your legs. If you can’t do that, tell me. We will help you.” He used words that pacified and soothed. Words meant to maintain calm and balance and harmony through support. “For those of you uninjured, remain calm and work with the person next to you. We’re going to disarm the front emergency door. But for the time being, stay in your seats. We don’t want to unbalance the plane.” As he spoke, he slowly moved forward, supporting himself with his good arm while looking to each of the passengers. The last thing they wanted was a mass rush and shift of weight; it could tip the plane deeper into whatever water they were floating on, and that would not be good for anyone.
“Can you all do that for me?” He finished with, hoping that the addition of a seeming favour would help to drive the calming instructions home.