[ It doesn't take being an interrogator to pick up on her reluctance to talk about it. He decides not to press, trying to find something else to talk about that she might be more receptive to. Something to distract from the pain as his fingers gently press and locate the break. Clean. Clean as you can get a break, or at least his manipulations don't find anything more out of the ordinary.
One hand still holding her wrist, he shoves around the contents of the first aid kit, searching for a splint, or something as close to one as he would recognise. First aid is apparently lagging way behind here, because he doesn't find it straight away. ]
The hell were the laws like where you're from? They seem just about non-existent to me.
no subject
One hand still holding her wrist, he shoves around the contents of the first aid kit, searching for a splint, or something as close to one as he would recognise. First aid is apparently lagging way behind here, because he doesn't find it straight away. ]
The hell were the laws like where you're from? They seem just about non-existent to me.