The wreck and the subsequent chaos was obvious from some way away. When Mitchell saw the medics coming in, he approached closer, cautious, but wanting to help if he could. He may only be a porter, but he'd picked up a few things in his hundred years.
The crowd cleared a little and suddenly he was in the eye of the storm. Over and sat on a stretcher he saw a familiar face. One that he hadn't been formally introduced to, but recognised all the same. The Doctor. And in need of some help it would seem.
He waited patiently until the medics had drifted off to attend to someone else, and the officer had stopped her immediate questioning, before he wandered over. He crouched down in front of the Doctor, desperately forcing down the scent of blood in his nose. Nevertheless, his eyes slid unbidden to black as he spoke softly, trying to catch the Doctor's eye. "Hey, anything I can do to help?"