No Fit State

A panther in the night, a fire burning bright. Ray reacts fast when she hears a familiar voice call out for help and the distinct sound of her door locking. Placing her book down, she opens the back door that connects her workshop to the main space and races over. Ray immediately scans the man in front of her, taking in his haggard appearance and identifying his main injuries. In half a second she's got her list of concerns. Exhaustion, incoming adrenaline crash, a deep incised wound. Ray spends another half second checking to see if his eyes are dilated. She can't quite tell in this dim light but there is clear stress and maybe even panic present in his eyes. Possible emotional trauma. Shit. Not even two seconds from approaching, and Ray gets to work. "Come on Declan. Let's get you to the  new infirmary. I'll patch up that hand of yours and get you something for the pain. If you need somewhere safe to stay for the next few nights, you're welcome to claim a bed there." She speaks with a calm and soothing tone, as she throws one of his arms over her shoulder to keep him vertical as they walk to the infirmary. It's a tone she's learned to use whenever someone barges in on her in the middle of the night injured and looking like they've just gone through hell. Declan fits the bill right now. Ray gently sits him on one of the infirmary cots and begins gabbing supplies. r a y The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion. —Albert Camus