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[center][color=B1B9A2]Remy Amblour[/color][color=555D46]...[/color][/center]
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Remy... really wasn't an artsy craftsy type of individual. He wasn't opposed to it or anything, but he definitely felt he was more a big and practical project person, and less of a "for fun" project person. So he'd mostly just been fidgeting around with the various scraps and doodads in the craft cabin. He could tell he wasn't the only one sharing this sentiment, but he was definitely in the minority.

He did catch one kid working on something, if only because he thought it was so odd for such a small, young kid to be working with a knife. He was growing more and more certain it was a lightsaber the kid was working on, but he wasn't quite sure y-

Aaaand he cut himself. For someone so small, he sure had a lot of blood. Remy may have been the first onlooker to notice, but he was soon joined by others. The problem was, again, the kid was small and oddly quiet for someone doing their best impersonation of a blood fountain. Some of the other kids in the cabin began to panic at the sight of all that blood and unfortunately by sounding the alarm, they were ironically taking all the attention away from the actual victim.

So, while the counselor on duty attempted to make sense of the chaos, Remy began thinking. This kind of thing was nothing new to him. He just needed the right tools... none of which existed in this cabin. His own shirt could work, but... it was kinda gross. Well, those scraps and doodads finally had practical purpose, as their was some scrap cloth for making... uh... something artsy he supposed. 

He went over, put a firm hand on the increasingly pale and unsteady looking kid, before taking advantage of the fact that he was over a full head taller and reaching up to grab the kid's injured hand and clamp down on it with a few scraps of cloth. They weren't exactly sanitary, but they'd stem the bleeding and it was better than a shirt permeated with half dried sweat from his morning exercise.

[color=B1B9A2]"Hey, don't worry, it looks a lot worse than it is,"[/color] Remy started rambling to try and distract him from his injury. [color=B1B9A2]"Just gotta put pressure on it. I seen way worse back home. My uncle once found a coyote stuck in some barbed wire. Thought it was already dead so he went over to go get it. Thing woke up and bit him three times before he could put it in a headlock while my dad cut the wire. Dang thing bit uncle again as thanks before it ran off. I swear my uncle wanted to rub dirt on it and get back to work, but my mom told him he had to go to the hospital in case it had rabies. Compared to that, this is nothin'. I don't think knives can even get rabies."[/color]

By then, most of the kids had stopped freaking out, and one or two had started listening in on Remy's rambling, seeming be equally glad for the distraction. This meant that, thankfully, the counselors had finally been able to spot the source of all the panic.

[color=B1B9A2]"By the way, I'm Remy. What's your name?"[/color]