"You're gonna be okay, sugar." The words are offered to perhaps the hundredth person she's handed off to paramedics after helping to go through the crowd and identify the people who needed care the most. This one is a teenager, a young man whose entire world has been shaken and it just about breaks her heart. He reminds her so much of the kids she's worked with for years now, the ones without a sense of stability who wake up screaming in the night. She hopes he doesn't join those ranks, but even she'll probably have nightmares about this day.

Something tickles her forehead and she reaches up to brush the back of her hand against it but winces at the sting the gesture causes. The grimy black glove comes away with a streak of dark wetness that can only be blood and she sighs heavily before tugging the glove off. It's easier to press her clean bare fingers along the edges of the cut, though it certainly doesn't hurt any less.

Another sigh follows seconds later when she spots the man from earlier, and suddenly she's feeling her exhaustion pretty keenly.