[color=green]“Shit, piss, hey, uh, hey Sorin. Could I ask a massive favor from you?”[/color]

[color=8493ca]“Mmn?”[/color] Sorin looked up. She was listening. The F-word had been brought into play and now Samdihier had piqued her curiosity. She regarded the bloodied mess with a sort of detached bemusement as her fellow squadmate began to talk his way out of it.

[color=green]“Cause I seem to have gotten glass and whisky, and here’s the crazy part right, its inside my hand.”[/color]

[color=8493ca]“I see,” Sorin mused. She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out the dogeared address book. Her Little Black Book, weatherbeaten and torn but always a part of her. It was here that names, addresses, contact details and deals were made. This was Sorin’s most precious possession; one she has fought to protect in the past and would unflinchingly do so in the future.

[color=green]“I ain’t no Galahad but I’m pretty sure that’s not where those two substances are supposed to be, and would’ja know it, the damn thing hurts worse’n Ray’s handshakes, kinda stings too.”[/color]

[color=8493ca]“How surprising,”[/color] Sorin drawled as she took out the pen that always resided near the book in that breast pocket and wrote down [i]Samdhier Zeintler[/i] into the yellowed pages. Adjacent to it, the date and time. Underneath, the details of the injury - all in the crisp black lettering of a trained hand that wrote coursework assignments during field exercises. Not even the erratic bumps in the road could unsteady her hand. It was an oft overlooked but very important skill for a medic and a sniper to have.

[color=green]“Reminds me of that peppery stuff Asa likes, but y’know it hurts here instead of here…”[/color]

[color=8493ca]“I’m sure it does,”[/color] Sorin responded gently. She punctuated the entry with her pen and snapped the book shut, putting it away. The pact was made; Samdihier owed Sorin A Favour now.

[color=green]“Anyway, would you do me a solid and patch it up? I’d really appreciate it.”[/color]

[color=8493ca]“That’s what I’m here for.”[/color] Sorin used her canteen to bang against the side of the truck bed, raising her voice to something a little underneath a yell as she barked [color=8493ca]“STOP THE TRUCK! We have our first casualty!”[/color] Now her stiff preparatory nature became less of a cheap way to get a jab at her and more of a well-thought out prediction of the inevitable; a gaggle of young wardens gambolling around the countryside were bound to end up in some form of trouble or another. And whilst the alcohol and good vibes were poured out in droves, there wasn’t a drop for the doctor that inevitably had to do her duty and act as damage control on the road trip. [color=8493ca]“Somebody get Zeitler something strong and hard-hitting. I can’t administer any painkillers,”[/color] Sorin sighed as she reached underneath her feet, pushed aside the canvas bag containing her rifle and took out her medkit from the very, very top of her backpack. As if she knew this was going to happen. There was a trace of a smile on her lips as, at last, she had been put into a situation that she was familiar and comfortable with.