Snippet #1840558

"Thanks for the morphine." Drauss knelt down to examine what he could of the wounds. While he was horrified that Doctor Misato could be so negligent, he could not say that he was particularly surprised. "So they're still bleeding." The stitches could be better, too, he realized: they were too jagged, and probably weren't closing the wounds in the way that Doctor Misato had hoped.

"We need a trolley," he told Art. "Keep him stable until I get back." He stopped by the locker room to scrub up, then raced downstairs to prepare the operating room for surgery. Though he was stressed and rushed, he ensured that he was careful, and that he had everything that he would need-- he couldn't afford to waste time tracking down lost tools when there was work to be done.

He arrived again a few minutes later, trolley in tow. "Help me get him up. I don't know how much time he has." He was already unconscious, and Drauss was not willing to estimate without a clear look at the internal damage.