[center][b]Royce and Summer - Salem Clinic[/b][/center]

Royce took in the sight of the severely injured woman, she must have been the one jumped by the now-dead corpses on the road into Salem. Redirecting his attention back to the Vault-Dweller, Royce could instantly tell that the man was on his last legs. He certainly hadn’t expected a town like this to consume the time of a doctor this much but definitely didn’t blame it. The man’s instructions were clear and without a word Royce followed his lead by carefully raising the injured woman and making their way towards the church, gently placing her down up on the makeshift bedding on the entry floor.

Summer made a low snarl of “watch it..” as Royce and the doctor lifted her up, but it was quickly silenced by the worrying realisation that she could no longer stand on her own. In fact, being lifted made the corners of her vision go dark. Anxiety started to take root and Summer opted against complaining until she had been seen to.

In mere seconds the Doctor began work on her. Royce stepped back in intrigue; he already felt far too invested in the situation to turn back and leave. With his brows furrowed at the sight of just how dire the wounds were, Royce couldn’t help but be impressed at just -how- resolute the woman was to have made her way into town. She was far too small, far too feeble, it was almost as if the waspish expression imprinted on her face was the sole reason for her heart to still be beating.

As a matter of fact, that waspish expression was directed towards Royce at the moment. She didn’t mean to scowl at the man but the thought of taking a good long look at her own wounds and having to bite back the urge to tell a fellow doctor how to do his own job was too much, so she looked away from her own personal surgeon and glared steadfastly at Royce. Every so often a whimper, hiss, or grunt of pain went through her clenched teeth and caused another shudder to run through her broken body. It made the scowl go worse, almost as if she was singlehandedly blaming the complete stranger who was watching her for every little twinge of discomfort.

Royce’s eyes drifted on the Doctor who was fully immersed in the preservation of life. Weary, almost withered by whatever strains the previous days had put on him. Royce felt a tinge of respect for his efforts, at least compared to what he’d seen from the vault-dwellers ilk throughout his travels.

The woman had managed a few words in the diner that only helped convey her vexed state even further. ‘A medic? She sure knows a thing or two about bullets now.’ Royce thought back. His attention was again snapped back onto the Doctor who must have finished with his work.

[color=00a651]"What did you say your name was? Or...did you say it at all? I'm sorry I'm afraid I can't remember...listen thank you for your assistance, but I'm afraid I need to ask one more favor of you. I saw an old pre-war retirement home when I first came here. I believe one of the townspeople is turning it into an inn of sorts right now...in any case, it’s the closest thing I can think of right now which might have some medical supplies to scavenge. Can you please go to the owner and ask her to send what she can spare to the Church? Clean linens, medicines, or anything that can be used as bandages. I need more supplies. I have two patients who are being treated for gunshot wounds and I need help."[/color]

Royce didn’t respond with anything aside from a few nods as the vault-dweller made his second request. He felt strangely compelled to help the man, he wasn’t making demands, he wasn’t being pushy, in fact these were pretty reasonable requests, he had two almost dying people to take care of after all. Besides, Royce was technically a free man now.
“Of course. I’ll get on it right now.”

[center][b]Royce - Sandy Coves Inn[/b][/center]

Without wasting anymore time Royce left the church, scanning the surrounding buildings around it for what could have been the retirement home the Doctor mentioned. He eventually found it, and upon entering noticed a merchant waiting by a Mr.Handy robot at what was supposedly the front desk. Royce didn’t have much experience with robots, in fact he felt too uncomfortable to converse with one. Instead he raised his voice enough to catch one’s attention, directed at the merchant, and asked “Do you work here, or know the person that works here? Emergency.”