He stood with his weight on one leg in the rain, and he watched her. Blood was running diluted off her blouse and into the garbage puddles. She'd been sliced up pretty good -- but it didn't occur to him that this was a problem. Centuries of being surrounded by screaming breaking popping bleeding twisting fire inclined him to file such a wound as Carletta's into the [i]laughably minor[/i] category. Especially given her heritage.

So he didn't answer. Not right away. He sniffed, drew his hand out of his jacket pocket and with it a pack of Camels he'd swiped off some guy at the gas station. He lit up with a Hello Kitty lighter (stolen off some homeless guy on the shop corner), his face glowed orange with the spark and he let his lungs fill with familiar smoke. He exhaled before he spoke.

"I'm your salvation." He grinned. He'd always wanted to say that. "This is a lady no longer possessed by a denizen of Hell." He gestured with the cigarette at the crumpled woman, and he stepped over her. The smoke was between his lips again and his hands in his pockets while he approached Carly.

"So you don't want to go home, how bout -- what's it -- the hospital?" He walked on, intending to pass her. "Hospital's this way, right? They'll fix your papercut. If you got insurance. I got insurance, no worries. Hurry up."