Snippet #1962988

Lark's head snapped around to Zach as he fell to the ground after a few rounds to the chest. Lark looked on in pure surprise at him and took a step forward. However, she jumped back as Braego came crashing through the wall. As the troopers were occupied with the large demi-god, Lark made her way over to Zach.

Lark knelt a bit painfully next to him. "Hey, Mr. USA, when I said you owe me, I meant like a cup of coffee. Not gettin' shot in the chest a couple of times," Lark said, giving a half-hearted smile. "Don't worry. My father taught me 'bout treatin' bullet wounds." Lark sighed heavily and quickly checked over each of the bullet wounds. None to the heart, obviously, and by the way they were each bleeding, none to any major arteries.

Lark slung her leather jacket off, leaving her in a black tank top, and pressed it down on the wound that she had figured was the worst. She placed his hand on the jacket and looked back up to Braego before looking back down at Zach. "Press," she said sternly before standing back up and shooting a few arrows into the enemies chests. She continued to do this, occasionally looking back down at Zach. But only occasionally. She didn't want to look like she cared or anything.