Stukov had pretty much finished stapling himself back together, searing the wound shut with some heat tool the emergency medical kit had beforehand to aid the staples in holding his side together, and packed the now lighter medical kit back up. There was a lot going on, far as the former Armsman could fathom, watching another cog boy come rolling up as, unknown to Stukov, the treatment and continued arguing between Sis and Smiles went on just like normal. Far as he could tell, Cog Girl was getting answers, the wounded woman in the armored vehicle, a Taurox or something like that, Stukov was barely familiar with Guard vehicles to begin with since he usually worked on Naval vessels, not Guard gear. He saw some of the stuff doing his rounds before the Inquisition picked him up, but that hardly meant he was knowledgable about any of it in the slightest. Hell, he didn't even know how to drive a vehicle let alone a combat one. It was never something that might be a concern and come up, after all, Armsman were not ground troops. They operated in the confined close quarters of a pitched boarding action. Being able to drive a tank, not terribly useful in the skill list for the Armsman.

But Stukov digressed, mentally, as the situation kept developing independently of his train of thought. Said newcomer cog boy, not Gear Girl to keep things straight in his head, commented on the injured woman that Boss was treating and he grunted as he forced himself onto his feet. Whether the man was here to help, or not, was irrelevant. Right now? They needed to stitch that woman up to a degree she wouldn't go and die at. Which meant they needed actual trained medical personelle, not his ever so caviler medical solutions or more painkillers, even if the latter of the two made it far easier for the injured in question to not lay around groaning in pain if they were so drugged up they could taste color. Stukov was on his feet as he made his way over to the newcomer Cog Boy and where the injured was, going on about Boss having sent her on some sort of damned mission or another. Well, he really couldn't comment on that, so combat training kicked in. Treating field injured personnel took decisive action, and the owman was probably in all sorts of shock from blood loss right now, painkillers dulling her senses and reactions further aside.

[color=9e0b0f][b]"Alright, questions as to who you are later Cogboy, stabilizing is first priority. Boss, probably not a good idea to move her until she is stable and the extent of her injuries is at least reasonably known. Alright Scarlet, yes that is your nickname now, questions later. Right now, need you to stay still and not agitate any injuries further with unnecessary movement. The amount of drugs in your system right now probably dulls how you can feel the extent of the damage, and any agitation movement might cause. Cogboy, you actually trained in medicae work or just know a thing or two about us meatbags?"[/b][/color] Stukov was, in the meantime as he talked since he was no medicae and just had basic workings of the medicae field well enough to stitch people together and stabilize them for proper medics to complain about later, building a stretcher arrangement for when it was safe to move the guardswoman he had nicknamed Scarlet, all because of the blood color. Clever him, right? But he was trying to focus everyone present on the task at hand. Preventing casualties from occurring further.