A woman in a black cowboy hat and leather armor stepped in behind him, removing her metal-rimmed sunglasses. Her eyes were a much lighter color than her skin. “Howdy,” she said, waving. “I don’t know if you remember me. Solomon said your memory was gone. Brought you something, though.”
She handed a small plastic bottle to Doc Mitchell, whose face lit up. “Knew you’d find a stash somewhere.” He turned to Sara and placed two small pills in her hand. “Low-dose Med-X. Ran out before you woke up, so I had Helena scavenge a bit.”
Helena snorted. “It beat sitting around listening to Ludwig flirt with the shopkeep. And the bartender. And the robot.” Her accent was pleasantly peculiar, trilling her R’s and annunciating her consonants, even through her drawl.
Sara smiled. “Well, thanks for this. I should be used to my head feeling like it's being kicked in all the time, but meds work better.”
“Don’t mention it,” the woman said, waving her off. “I’m happy you recovered. What do you remember from that night? Who shot you?”
She almost choked on the pills.
“She’s been sayin’ she ain’t ready to talk about it,” Doc Mitchell filled in while she downed the rest of her water. “Ain’t exactly a pleasant thing to recount.”
“It is still one of the only things she can recount, yeah?” Helena crossed her arms, but held a placid expression. “And she’s the only one who can.”
Doc Mitchell opened his mouth to respond, but Sara interjected. “No, she’s right. I’m the only witness to what happened in that graveyard.” She turned towards Helena. “As soon as I’m allowed to leave this house, I’ll tell you all about it. Promise.”
She nodded, sliding her shades back in place. “Good. I hope the rest of your healing continues smoothly.” She tipped her hat and made for the exit. “See you ‘round.”