"Posh," Eitan scoffed. "You clearly aren't afraid of anything."
A glance at the man's belly told him all he needed to know: the burns were far beyond any medical skills he had been trained for. The airship's few medics were making the deck a triage as the engines thrummed and the ship began to dart back toward the Brass City. Eitan grabbed the man's hand and held it.
"You're burned, but you aren't fully cooked. There isn't a lot they can do for you until we get you home, but we're en route. So I'm going to need you to keep talking to me so you don't succumb to shock. That's what I can do for you. Break my hand, though I implore you try not to as this is the one the ladies like best. Tell me about yourself. Scream. Whatever. Just stay with me. I'll be damned if the cultists are going to claim you. To die a martyr would be glorious indeed, but not today, all right?"
He swiped at the dribble of blood still coming from his nose with his free hand, then glanced at it ruefully.
"Damned cultists already ruined my uniform. Look, I'm the cursed bastard who keeps the shields lit on this boat. That took a lot out of me and so I'm going to need to keep talking myself so I'm lucid when the Minders take me. We'll keep each other alive so we get another shot at the enemies of Zaichaer, eh?"
A glance at the man's belly told him all he needed to know: the burns were far beyond any medical skills he had been trained for. The airship's few medics were making the deck a triage as the engines thrummed and the ship began to dart back toward the Brass City. Eitan grabbed the man's hand and held it.
"You're burned, but you aren't fully cooked. There isn't a lot they can do for you until we get you home, but we're en route. So I'm going to need you to keep talking to me so you don't succumb to shock. That's what I can do for you. Break my hand, though I implore you try not to as this is the one the ladies like best. Tell me about yourself. Scream. Whatever. Just stay with me. I'll be damned if the cultists are going to claim you. To die a martyr would be glorious indeed, but not today, all right?"
He swiped at the dribble of blood still coming from his nose with his free hand, then glanced at it ruefully.
"Damned cultists already ruined my uniform. Look, I'm the cursed bastard who keeps the shields lit on this boat. That took a lot out of me and so I'm going to need to keep talking myself so I'm lucid when the Minders take me. We'll keep each other alive so we get another shot at the enemies of Zaichaer, eh?"
