[centre][img]https://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLmZmMGExNi5RMlZ6WVhJZ1EyOXlkR1Y2LjIA/good-times.regular.png[/img][/centre] Cesar's bag is stuffed with as much medical equipment as he could find. Having raided at least one empty hospital, and taking as much as he could from a field hospital he was pretty much a walking pharmacy at this point. It was helpful, he could trade a lot of the pills, and had already had at least one woman hovering around as if she was going to ask for something. The dark-haired woman with needle marks on her arms hadn't, but he'd made a note to keep an eye on her in future. Definitely someone with a problem. She's nowhere to be seen right now, presumably out and fighting the Boyz. She might look like a junkie, but she also looks like she could kick his ass in a heartbeat. Most of the women here look like they could actually. Not that it's that surprising. Cesar has never considered himself a particularly tough guy, he's short, and he's never been in a fight that he's won. Then something explodes. Cesar's in the corridor, so he avoids the worst of it, but he still ducks instinctively. He won't be the only one, the tinkle of shattered glass fills the building, and worse, as people scream and try to move away from the violence. He can only hope, as he scrambles up the stairs, that no one on his side got hit. That hope is immediately dashed as a flash of light grabs his attention from a door. Nakala's room, but her lightning is red, not white. Running to the door way, he skids to a stop before going through. It could be one of the Boyz' Deltas, or it could just be a blown bulb. Carefully, wary that he might be about to have his head blown off, Cesar peeks around the door. The vicious Deltahuman he is convinced is lying in wait absolutely fails to blow his head off. Or exist. The room is scorched black, particularly around the window. His nose wrinkles, the room is filled with the scent of burnt hair and charred flesh. Not that he has time to think about that as his eyes are drawn to the two people scrabbling on the floor. The poncy blonde French guy is clearly the worse off of the two. Cesar can't say he'd have been doing much better if Nakala had her hands around her throat. [b]"What the fuck?"[/b] At the same time, Nakala is still on fire. Literally. Dropping his bag Cesar rips off his hoodie, intending to use it to put out the flames and [i]hopefully[/i] help him pull Nakala off Esmé. Right as he pushes the hoodie over her head to try and extinguish her hair his world goes white. [b]"Fuck!"[/b] He staggers back, hitting the doorframe hard as he blinks. He's blind. What the hell has gone in here? Leaning against the door, he's relieved as his vision slowly starts to return.