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[color=bf00ff]"I got lucky. But yeah, I made it. I'm Michael. Michael Daunte."[/color] Michael briefly looked up at the Darcsen before him before looking back down on his chest wound. Yeah, he made it. Physically unscathed fortunately. Mentally though, he wasn't sure. He wondered when that luck would run out for him, but he probably should not care about it now. In front of him is a wounded man, and he was not going to be bothered by his own concerns to not help this fellow.

He managed to rip through the layer of uniform to get to the wound itself. He was right. It was fairly a clean cut. But still, closing the wound isn't that simple. He really wondered what sort of bullet ripped through a chest in one straight line like that. Michael would normally be in reliefs if it struck the arm or leg, but chest is a different story. It's more complicated and if any vital arteries are hit, then this wound shouldn't only be treated like it's just a tear in your shirt. 

Nevertheless, it wasn't as easy as he would have thought. He didn't know where to start. While basic medical training was given to him back during his days, he wasn't even an amateur. But someone else knew though. He looked to the left to see it was that blonde guy he knew just before - the guy that tried to take the equipment from him earlier. Michael wasn't sure how to approach this guy, but he nevertheless approached both of them first, carrying a medical pack and offering to help the Darcsen with what he said to be civilian First Aid skill. Great. Right when he asked for it. 

Michael silently stood up from the Darcsen, as his hand politely gestured Archibald to have it his way. It did seem like he was true to his words. His handling of the wound was proficient, at least to Michael's eyes. He was somewhat glad that Archibald was here though. Personally, he may be at odds right now, but at least in terms of skills, he is a life saver right now. Watching him mend this wounded man before his eyes was somewhat a relieving sight. The sort of kindness shown to him right now was enough to make him question the nature of our actions ourselves. After all, he is a Darcsen, and they did not obviously fall into favor with history. 

[color=bf00ff]"My beliefs don't allow me to abandon a dying man when I see him."[/color] He replied, almost whisperingly, as he stared up the dull and depressing grey blanket of clouds. It's just a messed up fact. History is nothing but fanfictions. Very rarely could an event be portrayed in the way that it really is. Until the lions have their own historian, what is written down will always glorify the hunters. And an even sadder and more disturbing fact is that they had been indulged by generations of mindless folks who believed everything the people next door say to you because they are nice. 

[color=bf00ff]"Besides, all that Darcsen shaming that is happening right now. While the media says yes, I just slowly say no."[/color] 

Just because his entire world do one thing would Michael follow the flock. One at a time is all it takes for each steps.

But before he could say anything else, a sense of presence awoken him to his senses. It was from where he had emerged from. And there was the giant girl whom he had made remarks over her just a while ago. And it just did prove his point, although she looked rather...afraid, than hatred. But nevertheless, considering the fact that he may need some proper treatment than just a simple bandage, Michael waved her closer to the group. He was half-expecting her not to, but he remained hopeful if she could come to term with that oddness to the Darcsens that she just openly expressed.
[@CFProxy][@Letter Bee]