[Buffy had never before noticed the terrifying effect of blood on snow. Especially when it was her own. In California, blood had a habit of sinking black into the dark, uncovered ground. But as she walks slowly back into the village, she winces to look over her shoulder and see the sporadic trail of bright, bleeding red behind her. There's a bad
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Hm?
[Oh boy, she doesn't look to be in good shape at all]
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Oi, are you okay? What happened?
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Until she spots someone familiar, clearly in pain.]
Oh my God. Buffy.
[In an instant, she'll have a strong but firm grip on you, Buff. She has to stop herself in the act of reaching for a nonexistent communicator - still getting used to the lack of technology here.]
Where are you injured?
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[The name comes rather forcedly, like Buffy has to expend effort in order to find the pronunciation; however, the firm grip helps and she makes good use of it. Oh. Something didn't feel right at all.]
Does my everywhere count as an okay answer?
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[Feeble attempt at a joke, there. Uhura's face is lined with concern and concentration as she steers Buffy in the direction of the porch.]
You should've gone right to the clinic, you know.
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Oi! Stop moving ya suicidal git! [He comes skidding to a halt in the snow next to her]
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[Gives her a quasi-stern look, taking his coat and vest off and laying them across Buffy's shoulders.] Alright, can you tell me where you live?
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Concern and worry that had been dampened by liquor returned with full force as he pushed open the door and made a beeline for Jim's room; and as expected, there was a familiar mop of blonde hair awaiting him there. His shoulders sagged in an expression of relief, before they tensed up again at the state she had been returned in. ]
Buffy?
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And when the door opens, she is startled. Her head twists and she looks, face haunted, at the entrance. She is such a mess, but there's a can't-be-helped smile when she sees the Doctor. Can't be helped, at least, until she feels the jab of pain once again and has to turn away, holding her palm against herself.]
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And the lack of a sarcastic retort from Summers in response does nothing to quell his worry as he disappeared from the door way, only to return moments later with his medical kit and kneels down next to the bed where she is seated and glances at the woman. ]
Let me see that.
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Slowly, she pulls her palm away. Red is already streaking through from below, staining her tank-top with blood. Now, closer, the Doctor must surely be able to see the hand smudges and odd pools collected around her.
Buffy looks him straight in the eyes, her own wide and searching. When she speaks, her voice is very quiet as if even volume would affect the intensity of the pain.]
Why won't it stop?
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Buffy, what the hell happened?!
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Scientists aren't exactly keen on being nice people, I guess. [A hiss, a shap intake of breath.]
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[It's okay, Haseo. Don't panic. She'll make you useful...like how she's reaching out to grab onto your shoulder, preventing a fall.]
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