Clean-up wasn't something witch hunters typically had to do. Witches died only a few ways, most often? They burned them which was only a matter of ashes needing to be blown away as so much dust in the wind. No one thought much of how they'd deal with the bodies if they didn't burn so damn well. It wasn't on Hansel's list of things he'd had to address.
He'd burned plague victims. Dug mass graves. Here, in this place, he dug graves for individuals whose loved ones only wanted to put them to rest. It seemed fitting he'd come across a bleeding body on the verge of needing its own burial on his day off.
"You know, I been cleaning up dead aliens for the last two days. I'd really appreciate it if you didn't die here."
Hansel sank into a crouch beside the woman as he got close enough to gauge the severity of her wounds. She was making noises which was a good sign. No screaming. Very good sign. It was likely she was some kind of witch or freak of another nature given Test City's tendencies to collect the strangest of the strange.
Huffing, he said, "I'm Hansel. This is Test City. I'm taking it you're either local or brand new. I know you didn't get this kind of wound from a Necromorph. Those nasty fucks weren't nearly so clean with their attacks. Can you talk? Move? I can get you to a hospital if you need one."