*Thud!* Our ambulance door slams shut after Anora’s entrance, she’s now locked into a chain of events she'd surely have trouble escaping should she suddenly find the urge to do so.Yet, aside from all ill-omens, our young man had been moved easily enough onto a pasty white surface now to be worked over by those skilled in healing the critically wounded. 

“How’s he-....?” The younger emt muttered under his breath, cutting words short before uttering the foreboding statement [i]’How’s he still alive..?’[/i], as it would only distract from what needs to be done for someone still clinging to life. 

Tension and experienced instincts fill the air, all unnecessary emotion drains away as both technicians move to address what is before them. The younger, focused gentlemen had nearly finished attaching several wires and small devices to said patient’s right arm to gather vital signs. The older, whiskered man slid his left hand under our injured lad’s shirt-cuff whilst his right went to work splitting crimson-stained fabric down the middle with a pair of angled scissors. The bare chest revealed is coated in large, jagged scars and half-visible tribal tattoos now caked in dark crimson. Small white cloths dabb and slide where necessary in attempting to find any visible cuts or gaping wounds, yet, none were found. In fact, ever since being moved to the ambulance, the patient had looked to cease all profound bleeding that had been witnessed earlier. One would also notice that his breathing had regulated itself whilst tremors and incessant shaking gradually came to an end. His vitals, which, when first hooked into the machine appeared as critical, were now moving into the only moderately-dangerous areas of slight stability. 

“Uhm…-” The whiskered emt hesitated for only a moment, instincts screaming that injury’s could still be found anywhere other than what had looked to be the central point of impact.  “-Phill, Jeans.” His hurried voice would order the younger technician to go to work cutting away at the patients pants whilst our more aged pair of hands chopped away at denim jacket with expert precision. 

	Phill takes a sharp breath in before continuing to work as he spots his seasoned partner gingerly withdrawing one compact revolver from an inner pocket of our patients jacket. The wet pistol is placed inside an empty container off to the side and out of Anora’s possible reach. They both continue on as they had before.

Underneath sleeves and pant-legs it’d be revealed most all limbs were, in fact, quite out of sorts. The lack of cuts was astounding, though, it didn’t stop either worker from checking as the process of splinting the head, neck, and all but the right leg is initiated. 

By this time they’d nearly arrived at the hospital, small verbalities denoting someone talking into a radio for preparation of a room having been heard from the front cabin of the vehicle throughout their short trip.  

	*Click* The ambulance door swings open to reveal several nurses and a hospital bed ready for patient transit. One nurse, a stern-faced woman with vibrant red hair, spoke to Anora in calm words filled with quiet authority. 

“You need to step from the vehicle ma’am.” Her deep-brown eyes focused into the ambulance then back towards the sheet-covered bed behind them, likely showing Anora without too much body language that to move our injured man she’d first need to get out of the way.

	People eventually moved to and fro towards the hospital, another injured body now en-route to an operating room capable of fully examining whatever harm may have caused such intense injurious responses. Anora would be allowed to follow up until entering such a room, outside which there would be a small waiting area full of old wooden chairs and manila wallpaper that peeled at the edges after it’s long soak in this buildings sterilized air. 

	Seconds would turn into minutes, minutes would turn to hours, and time would likely pass as painfully as it ever had when turmoil of this degree presents its ebon gaze. Two hours, thirty six minutes and forty seven seconds later one tired-looking doctor had exited the ER into the small exterior foyer Anora had likely occupied, assuming she hadn’t left for food or other such callings at the time. If she had, an announcement would chime on the PA describing her physical appearance and requesting her presence in the ER lobby. His green eyes held suitcases beneath them, jagged strings of hair entangling themselves with each other just above chalky features. His gaze would alight ever-so-slightly upon spotting Anora, words beginning to paint chapped lips in chalky overtures.

“So, uhm, he’s fine. Well, as fine as I can say after being informed of his insurance situation. He’ll be discharged soon, but, until then, he’s been asking for you. He’ll be in room 8 until requested to leave in about two hours.” His pace had initiated before he’d finished speaking, lithe feet in cozy, worn shoes carried this tired physician towards his next patient without regard for the presently uninjured Anora.

	Should Anora head to room 8 she’d find a perturbed man awaiting her. His scarred features were young and mildly feminine in their narrow construction. Cheekbones pressed harshly against thin skin beneath furrowed eyebrows. Messy hair which somehow maintained a hint of vogue style sprouted as sharp waves into oneself. Either average ear was visible due to the faded cut on the sides of his head. His chin speared into the air below chapped and cracked lips, one thin nose of moderate size flaring just before speech. 

“What do they call you?”His words were immediate and sharp, having split the air between them with blatantly flustered overtones before Anora could fully enter the room. His unexpectedly hearty voice courses through the air as a raging sea of deeply-seeded confidence. Either lithe arm can be found as crossed over one lean, apron-coated chest.

What is most striking about him, and perhaps what was noticed last simply due to their oddly overwhelming aura, were his eyes. Two ferocious, nearly luminescent, pinkish spheres jabbed their spear-like oppression into the girl, cutting into every part of her whether she chose to fully reveal herself or not. Their half-closed position shown either an intense focus not to be underestimated, or an exhausted rage resting in all general directions just above small dark bags beneath roseate iris’s.