practiced response, no matter what pain she’s experiencing. waves off any semblance of concern, so typical of her. the woman would wave it off even if she was bleeding out, or gutted. self destructive as a way of life, it’s no wonder she’s in U.N.I.T. a pause, a breath, gently probe for damages and only coming up with only minimal blood (at least by her standards.) she’ll be alright. at least she’s not going to bleed out in the next few minutes. head wounds are always a nasty business, luckily the red hair and dim light makes it hard to tell how bad the damage is at a glance. for that much at least, she’s grateful, she doesn’t want gwen stopping for something like this.
❝ we’ve got to keep moving. ❞
Emilie Breck was strong and stubborn in a lot of ways Gwen could admire and quite a few that she found annoying as fuck as well. In the field, however, it was a bit of a mixed blessing. She was right about one thing at least: they had to keep moving. There wasn’t a choice in the matter. Gwen had her gun in both hands through they trembled slightly in concern as she anticipated their pursuers catching up again.
“Lean on me if you have to,” she offered, assuming the injury was worse than her new friend would have her believe but knowing that pressing the matter would only waste time. “And you’re on bed rest as soon as we get back,” she added, prepared to use her age and rank to twist the suggestion into an order if need be.
