akota tried not to let his snappiness get to her - it was understandable, given the fact that she’d just shot him. She tried to keep a neutral tone when she responded to his disbelief that she hadn’t shot around him. ”I had to be fast.” She offered as an explanation, a nearly imperceptible shrug moving through her shoulders.

As he demanded the gun again, Dakota felt her grip tighten on the object in question, her mouth set in a stubborn line. She gave a small shake of her chin when he reached out again, not moving to hand him the gun in the slightest. She felt a wave of relief when he relented, promising to kill her should she happen to shoot him again. That was a fair trade, in her opinion. And she really didn’t feel like patching up two gunshot wounds, anyhow. She watched as he struggled to gather his rifle, her analytical eye studying the way he moved and the blood spreading on his shirt. She probably shouldn’t have shot him. Not if her goal was to get away from him as fast as possible.

As he glanced over his shoulder at her, Dakota took that as her cue to follow him. She did so, keeping a safe-ish distance between him and her, the gun still in her hands. As he responded to her suspicions, Dakota felt a little more guilty. She hadn’t really thought about the fact that all emergency personnel were stretched thin, as with the rising infection rates more and more hospital staff lost the battle against the virus. It was enough to keep even an experienced surgeon such as herself up at night. Wondering when she’d start to feel sick. Because it wasn’t an if - so long as the virus went without a vaccine or cure, it was a when. Even now, she was working more than just surgery. She took whatever shifts they’d let her have, worked whatever job needed doing at the time. Dakota was snapped out of her musings when she found herself staring down the business end of his rifle, and she felt her hands jerk, ready to pull the gun up. But then, she definitely didn’t want to get shot in the face right about now, so she stilled herself, staring back at him with that same determined, stubborn expression. She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her.

”Has anyone ever told you that you talk like a bad movie villain? Like something from 007?” She asked casually, raising a brow.

The sudden appearance of one of the rioters - rebels? Whatever - resulted in the repetitive pop of the rifle. Dakota flinched, wincing as the poor soul fell to the ground. She watched as Aaron responded to the pain of firing the weapon, staying silent as he cursed her. That was fair. She began to nod her head when he gestured to the door to the OR, though she just stared with parted lips as he kicked the door down. She didn’t comment, though, following him into the room and watching as he got up onto the table.

„You better hurry up.“

Dakota looked away from him to the rest of the room, moving around it to gather everything she needed. She set those supplies down on the table next to him, grabbing a pair of scissors and giving him a quick glance. ”I’m going to cut this off. There should be spare scrubs you can put on in the prep room.” She told him, nodding to a door to the side. Without saying anything else, she took the scissors to the hem of his shirt, running her hand up and then cutting the shirt over to his shoulder so that it could just be tossed away, rather than trying to pull it off his arm. She flushed the wound, clearing away the blood so that she could get a look at what she was working with. Pulling on a pair of clean gloves, Dakota took a ball of gauze and held his shoulder gingerly with her free hand. ”This might not feel great.” She told him, her gaze locked on his wound. There was no bullet to get rid of, so all she needed to do was clean the entry and exit wounds, pack them and wrap him up. Without ceremony, Dakota pressed the gauze into the wound, holding everything while she reached over for the small square of gauze she’d set aside. Placing it over the wound on his chest, she secured it by running her fingers along it’s edges, taping it to his skin.

Walking around him, she flushed and cleaned the exit wound, her hands gentle but firm as she also packed that wound, once again covering it with a square of taped gauze. Stepping back to make sure that it was satisfactory, she came back around in front of him, eyeing his face. ”I would give you something for the pain, but you’ve lost a lot of blood, so it probably wouldn’t help.” Studying him, she pulled the gloves off her hands, dropping them in a small bin. ”You look like you probably know the aftercare routine for gunshot wounds.” She commented, before nodding her head towards the prep room. ”There’ll be a cabinet in there with the extra scrubs.”

template by punki of adoxography