we're always running scared but holding knives
"Unconscious," Isla murmurs, clicking the door shut behind her and moving to adjust the lights in the room so they're a little less harsh and oppressive. Drawing up a chair next to Remi's bed, she frowns at the marks on his arms that suggest he's been injected or hooked up to a drip or whatever else. "They had to sedate him - it wouldn't have been fair to keep him awake at this point."
Letting out a long sigh, she glances over Remi and seems disappointed but unsurprised that no one has bothered to attend to his burns yet. "He was hypothermic when he was brought in. Severe blood loss, arrhythmia, burns, a shattered collarbone, and that's not even taking the missing... bits of him." Inhaling just as slowly, she searches the wendigo's face. "Can you tell me what happened up there? I can't ask him for obvious reasons."
Letting out a long sigh, she glances over Remi and seems disappointed but unsurprised that no one has bothered to attend to his burns yet. "He was hypothermic when he was brought in. Severe blood loss, arrhythmia, burns, a shattered collarbone, and that's not even taking the missing... bits of him." Inhaling just as slowly, she searches the wendigo's face. "Can you tell me what happened up there? I can't ask him for obvious reasons."
Isla
