I've helped three people bleeding three different colors of blood since I got here. Since we're low on corpsmen, I figured it'd be better to be prepared. [Which is true, considering the field dressings he'd started cramming in his belt pouches can only do so much, and admittedly so can the stuff in the bags, but... maybe this is just him feeling antsy, too, because this place is somehow even more disorganized than a battlefield in some ways.

Eugene pushes the clothes and the combat knife in its sheath into Snaf's arms before he can make any other snappy comments, and it's really only until then that he takes in the room behind his friend. "Room." Shack is more accurate, and it's a weird sort of double image to be seeing it here, although in an entirely different way than it is to wake up in his bed from back home. It doesn't go away when he takes a step inside.

At least it's missing the rats and crabs.]