You think you can help her? [snaps the apparition.] Where was all this fucking compassion when you shot South? When you shot Donut?
[He hasn't seen South. He hasn't seen her, and he doesn't think of her, now, does not think of the floss of her hair that was almost fluorescent, the set of her sneer and the glint of the scar on her cheek and the fact that she was nothing like this - this kid bleeding out on the floor because of his own inability to put a goddamn stopper on his rage.]
[She's bleeding. Arms. Stomach. Chest.]
[If she were a Freelancer, those kinds of wounds wouldn't be fatal. She isn't. She's not armed with body-shielding or a healing mod or automated biofoam injectors.]
[Moving his arms to twist the cap off the biofoam pen unfurls a white-hot pulse that ricochets down his spine. He moves anyway. Uncaps it. Tries to locate the injury on her chest through sight alone - a tenuous task when his vision keeps shorting out in fraying static.]
no subject
[He hasn't seen South. He hasn't seen her, and he doesn't think of her, now, does not think of the floss of her hair that was almost fluorescent, the set of her sneer and the glint of the scar on her cheek and the fact that she was nothing like this - this kid bleeding out on the floor because of his own inability to put a goddamn stopper on his rage.]
[She's bleeding. Arms. Stomach. Chest.]
[If she were a Freelancer, those kinds of wounds wouldn't be fatal. She isn't. She's not armed with body-shielding or a healing mod or automated biofoam injectors.]
[Moving his arms to twist the cap off the biofoam pen unfurls a white-hot pulse that ricochets down his spine. He moves anyway. Uncaps it. Tries to locate the injury on her chest through sight alone - a tenuous task when his vision keeps shorting out in fraying static.]
I'm going to stop the bleeding. Okay?