Perry decided against calling after her. His hands were clutching at the tattered waistband of his scrubs, but he just snarled a little to himself and tried to use the ties to hold them up so he wouldn't have to do it manually. Had he not been in the middle of a completely unknown place and actually pretty freaked out, he would've most likely just dropped the pants and left them in he snow, regardless of how cold it was. He had nothing to hide, and quite frankly he enjoyed showing off his body. Besides, he was wearing his good boxers today.
He'd actually been pretty shocked when she'd whipped the knife out, and his heart had leaped into his throat. He was still a little stunned, not that he was about to show it. Something was really fucking wrong here... really fucking wrong. His sixth sense was tingling and it was driving him insane.
Eventually, he gave up fussing with his pants and just held them, the torn fabric bunched up in one fist. He lifted his head to glare at the other doctor (well, whether he was a doctor or a poor, pitiful, pathetic excuse for a doctor who liked to call himself a doctor was yet to be decided), and he bared his teeth a little and wrinkled his nose, more to cover up the fact that he was about to accept help than out of actual hatred.
"Well. I guess that all really depends on whether or not you can fire all three of 'em at me at once, and just how fast you can do it there."
Now that his balls were no longer in agony and were just mildly smarting, he was standing in the cold snow, shivering a little, and he was finally able to step back and think. He knew Newbie; that girl couldn't get far into a prank before the swelling of his egotistical head finally got the better of him, and he just had to go pirouetting out there and take credit for what he'd managed to pull off. Since he couldn't see any of them, and the snow made it painfully obvious that he wasn't close to L.A. anymore, that panic was starting to rise.