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Simon Tam (can_swear) wrote in silverage,

Simon caught her talking, but not really the words. He thought he heard doctor, but whether that was I'm a doctor, he's a doctor, we called a doctor, he didn't know. He just knew he was focused on staunching the flow of blood from places it shouldn't be flowing and checking for possible concussions.

He could see it was a car crash, and he wasn't sure if he should roll his eyes at himself for asking or her for stating the obvious. He'd more meant the assessment of injuries, but perhaps she hadn't had time. "No blanket. There's some towels inside the building," he offered. Blankets if they raided empty rooms or asked someone who worked there, he'd guess.

He did, however, have tubing for a proper tourniquet, so he handed that off to her. "Drugs, mostly," he said as he fished out a couple of wrapped syringes and labeled vials of painkillers. Whether or not she actually knew what she was doing, he had no way of knowing -- so he had to trust her. "What year are you from?" He asked, because that would probably be the easiest way to assess what he needed to coach her in as far as dosages and drug purposes.

Pulling out a roll of gauze and medical tape, he gestured for her to help herself if she spied anything she needed while he went to work on the backseat passenger's injuries. He wasn't interested in the hows or the whys; he was only interested in the injuries and helping the people who had them.