[h3][center]Private Durandal[/center][/h3]
The engineer's ragnaid elicited a happy groan from the lancer. "Ooh... That's good. Mm, ooo." The lancer, after the brief medical attention, carefully rolled herself into her back. "Here, here, help me sit. I can at least point my lancer then. I don't... Think I should get up just yet. And bring her here." Regan motioned at the other wounded with her head. "While you push, I'll see what I can do for her. I'm not a medic, but I might have a truck up my sleeve." Her speech was deliberate and careful. Speaking through pain or fatigue or both, probably.

And the others pushed. Reinforcements came as somewhat familiar faces, and it gave Regan a little piece of mind in their position.