"I said the stores. This isn't a post-apocalypse video game, dude, there aren't going to be medkits stuffed behind the register of..." She squints at the nearest sign. "'Beauty Supply.' That's fuckin' creative."

Except he's heading for a house now. "See, that's more like it. I'll even kick the door in for you since you kind of seem like you'd actually turn into home made human french fries if you tried."

She looks at his hands, then up at his face, her nonchalance breaking for a moment to show the concern underneath. "If you want to just sit somewhere I can find stuff and bring it back. ...The fuck aren't you bleeding to death, anyway? What happened to your hand? Someone stab you with a piton or something? ...That's a spike for climbing shit in case you didn't know."