[center][color=47ff85][h2]Cara Bryant[/h2][/color][/center]

Cara pressed her lips together, but showed no other sign that the comment had gotten to her. She'd heard worse from some people she'd helped, and the attacks weren't always merely verbal. Even so, a duty was a duty. [color=47ff85]"I'm a paramedic,"[/color] she said, to explain both the blood and her offer to treat the woman's injury, as she took her first aid kit from her backpack. [color=47ff85]"Or at least, I was until all this happened."[/color]

She approached the girl, setting down the first aid kit on a higher step, donning thin translucent gloves and examining the wound. It wasn't deep enough to need stitches, but bore the distinctive jagged edges of a bite, heightening the risk of infection. She set to work cleaning and dressing it, the glow returning to her hands as she did so. Her fingertips tingled, neither her gloves nor the bandages stopping the energy from flowing through. [color=47ff85]"This will speed up the healing process a little,"[/color] she explained. The girl would feel the effect right away - reduced pain, and no blood seeping through the bandage - but would still have to be careful not to aggravate the injury.

Once done, Cara put away the medical supplies. [color=47ff85]"How's that?"[/color] If the woman wanted to rest, hopefully she'd have an easier time of it now, in so far as rest could be easy in recent years. Of course, there was always the chance the girl would use the slight recovery as an opportunity to attack. Cara could feel the strain setting in, partly from earlier, but couldn't let her guard down just yet.