She doesn't know who Lien Da is, or anything about her. All Jean sees is an injured woman wearing a thick coat. One sleeve is slashed open, matted with blood. It's a jagged, nasty cut, something that could get infected if left open like that. It might've taken some arguing for Lien Da to cooperate and get patched up... Still. The flower shop first aid kit is earning its place today. "Hold still." Gently but firmly winding a bandage around the bleeding limb, a look on stern concentration on her face. Jean's never been able to see trouble without getting up and doing something about it.
Lien-da’s wounds weren’t as grievous as they seemed, her pride dictated so. But the difficulty she had simply standing upright was a good enough indicator that it would get worse before it got any better. her only solace was the state she left her would be assaillants, much worse for wear than her, but at the very least still breathing.
And so, in spite of her best effort, someone, a florist by the look of things, still spotted her. Without any way to refuse the help, Lien-da was unceremoniously shoved inside her shop, unable to pipe a single word as the shopkeeper quickly applied some gauze on her cuts. Not the best doctor, but she seemed competent, for reasons perhaps best left unknown. “I...” Began Lien-da, unsure how to answer as the pain stung time and time at her brain, dulling her senses.