2021-11-19 - It's the Perks That Make the Job

Isi's car is one thing that marks her native heritage more than anything else. It's a jeep wranger, but one that has seen better days. It's more than twenty years old and is literally held together in some places with duct tape. Tribal symbolodry was painted on it at some point, though the colors are faded now. The windows don't come down without a great deal of swearing, and it's a toss up if the heater is going to work on any given day.

None the less, it's Isi's, and it gets her up and out of town when the need to be alone with nature gets too much. (On a normal day Isi can been seen hoofing it from place to place - the damn thing doesn't always work!) It's lead her up to a new-to-Isi, but more or less forgotten trailhead just north of town. She takes her hike without any weird shiz happening, and with her time alone done, it's time to head back to Gray Harbor - home.

She idles at an intersection to check her phone, then without checking fully in both directions, turns onto the main road. Pity the poor sap that gets stuck behind her, the jeep doesn't have a whole lot of voom left tin it, so it takes some time to get up to speed.

Gray Harbor's roads aren't crowded at the best of times; you only get heavy traffic on the road going to the city's last timber plant during shift changes. So when she zooms out onto the main road, there's no one to be imperiled except a startled fox, who scrambled for cover, then yips angrily from the cover of the bushes roadside. The battered Jeep rounds a curve; one thing that Gray Harbor does have is a decent view, if you get in the right place, and from here, she can see the town laid out before her. It's a pretty looking, rustic place, when you can't see the junkies and the homeless, and the wreckage from the storm is just another feature of the landscape.

Behind her, someone finally joins the road. A large, solid looking vehicle - a work truck, maybe, although from her position ahead of it she can't see any insignia. Likewise, the guy driving is just a flannel-clad shape with a baseball cap, head bopping along with whatever's playing in his cab. The main road is a two-lane, and he's coming up fast. Instead of moving to get into the other lane to pass Isi, though, he's staying in this one, closing the distance behind her.

Isi was distracted by the view. For a town full of horors it manages to be exceptionally pretty. It's uncanny and a little unnerving to think. "What's that saying," she mutters to herself, reaching up to adjust her back mirror, "Wolf in sheep's clothing or something?" She wasn't a literature major, but that sounds about right.

The adjustment brings that car behind her into focus, and she squints a bit as he comes along faster. "Asshole's going to pass me just when he gets behind me." So she does what a nice responsible driver does - she slows down a bit so he can blow by that much more quickly.

You know, that's probably what the asshole intends.

Or maybe he, too, is distracted by the pretty view, as he slows down a little as he comes up on her rear end, pacing her with about three feet from his grill to her back bumper. It's hard to say what, exactly, alerts her - but just as he hits the gas to cross that small distance and slam into her back bumper, Isi's instinct has her jerking the wheel and the little Jeep practically hops into the other lane, just missing getting rear-ended.

Isi's going to attribute that to some weird supernatural occurrence because she didn't consciously realize what was happening until it DID happen. Her heart now going a mile a minute abject fear turns into rage and damn the consequences of lowering her window she goes to do just that while starting to yell obscenities.

"WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE?! STAY IN YOUR FUCKING LANE!" And she gives the bird, as is proper.

The bird? The bird is what Isi gives this guy?

Ohhh, that seems to make him a little bit mad. As her window rolls down, she gets a better look at him: White guy, late twenties/early thirties, tanned in that way that says outdoor work, not beaches or tanning beds. He's got that cap pulled down too far to get a good look at his face.

Besides, Isi has more important things to look at, as he swings that truck back into her lane...while her little Jeep is right there. There's the bang of metal hitting metal, and her Jeep starts to fishtail on the road. This time, no sudden inspiration saves her and the truck backs off for a moment...only to come at the Jeep again, clearing intending to nudge it all the way off the road, and down into the tree-filled ravine off the side.

Even as she's being driven off the road Isi's going to keep swearing at the other driver. Rage turns to fear again as she fights with her jeep to try to keep it on the road. Since he seems intent at keep at her side Isi closes her eyes (because that is smart Isi...) and slams on the break with a prayer that he'll outrun her before she careens into the trees.

Apparently, blind driving works. Maybe it'll become the next big thing! Or maybe the driver just wasn't expecting it, because when she hits the breaks, the Jeep lets out a godawful screech of locking tires, and the scent of burnt rubber tickles her nose...but the work truck shoots on by. If it had any sort of insignia, she misses it, on account of having her eyes closed.

But at least she can see the license plate when she opens her eyes! ...which is obscured with mud in a very deliberate sort of way. Instead of slowing with her, the truck hits the gas, and starts to accelerate, pulling away from the Jeep.

Isi opens her eyes when she smells the burnt rubber and continues to slow until she can pull shakily off to the side of the road. She stares at the back of the truck - storing the blocked license plate in the back of her mind.

Only when the truck gets several lengths ahead of her does she force her white knuckles fingers from the steering wheel. Deep breaths. What was that meditation routine that shrink told her about once?

The truck pulls ahead. Maybe it was just some complete asshole having a bad day; now he's had his fun scaring the woman with the weird markings on her truck, and he's going to go to the bar and laugh with his buddies how he scared some illegal immigrant, and everyone's just gonna have a great day.

Or maybe not. Because just as Isi's pulling off to the side of the road, the truck comes to a halt. It makes a neat three point turn, until it's facing her again. She catches a glimpse of a symbol on the side of the truck: A red maple leaf and a black trowel. No letters. Then the grill is facing her little Jeep again, and the truck turns its brights on. Even in the daylight, when they're facing right at you, there's an unpleasant glare. The motor revs.

Tires squeal as the truck leaps forward, on a collision course.

There is time for a single yelled fuck before Isi throws herself at the passenger doorway and shoves it open. She is NOT staying inside. Not if she can make it out.

This means she takes off her seat belt. The only question now is if she is able to wiggle out before the truck reaches her.

Isi lunges for the door. The truck roars as it closes the distance. It's very, very close.

Too close.

She gets most of the way out, but not ALL of the way out when there's a metallic scream as the two cars collide. The Jeep is much smaller, much lighter. It's not even a contest - it's flung backwards off the road, down into the ravine. And instead of a controlled dive out the side, Isi's legs are caught up in that crash, and she's flung down into the woods as the Jeep tumbles. She hears a sickening snap as her arm slams into a tree. That takes the brunt of the impact, but she bounces off several other trees on the way down, picking up all manner of bruises, cuts, and aches. Eventually, she comes to rest against a half-rotted log, the loamy, sour scent of it mingling with the smell of blood.

At the top of the ravine, on the road, she can see a single human figure looking down, trying to spot her body. There's a hunting rifle in his hands.

Isi couldn't move even if she wanted to. The pain coming from that broken arm and the rest of it has her laying prone - almost too much in pain to breathe, let alone walk.

It is only by the grace of some diety and Isi's own homegrown stubbornness that keeps her from moaning aloud from said pain. Instead she literally bites her lip until it bleeds, to keep from calling out. Her eyes squeeze shut against the need to scream.

The figure stands there, in silence. At one point, there's a crashing through the underbrush as the Jeep, a couple dozen feet away, settles. The rifle comes up, and he sights down it. But nothing stirs. Nothing whimpers.

After a minute or two, the figure departs. In the shocked stillness of the forest, she can hear the truck's engine start up, and drive away.

Isi keeps her eyes shut tightly with her tongue bleeding profusely until that sound comes as if a blessing from God. The truck revving, then moving.

Even then she doesn't move right away but lays exactly where she landed. It takes all of her willpower to finally force her eyes open and begin the process of trying to move.

Trying being the key word because she isn't successful at first. Finally she does roll over, and gets to battered knees. It isn't without cost because she throws up at the pain, vomit mixing with blood to add another layer to the multicolored canvas of her body.

"Fuck," muttered breathlessly as she stares down at the mess of herself. Tucking that arm against her chest makes the tears break free and flow down her cheeks, the salty channels the only 'clean' part of her.

It takes even longer to convince herself to try to walk - not to her car, it was a worthless hunk of junk anyway - but blindly towards the road. She stumbles several times as she goes, grasping at trees when she can and her stomach taking several invitations to rebel again till she is only dry heaving.

It wasn't a quiet wreck. A car falling off the side of road is never quiet. And it takes her a while to get up to the road proper - a painful while, since climbing on a broken arm is not what people recommend, generally. But she does get up there, after about twenty minutes. And when she does, she feels an odd sensation, like someone running their fingers through her brain, just for a moment.

Then there's a clatter and crash from the woods on the other side of the road. The woods that slant upwards, as someone seems to be crashing their way through the underbrush, heading directly for Isi. A large, bulky male form, although details are obscured by the shadows.

After what just happened Isi has lost ALL faith in humanity. When she hears the crashing there is only one thought in her head- he is back, the gun with the gun and truck, and he is going to finish her off this time. He was just waiting to surprise her.

She can't run though, her legs are too shaky and the pain too overwhelming. So she yells instead, "Fucking coward! Just fucking shoot me and get this shit over with." It is a scratchy and faded yell as her throat is raw from the vomiting.

Alexander emerges from the underbrush, stops on the other side of the road as she yells. He's...well, he still looks like a hobo. Just a woodsy hobo, at the moment, with a leaf in his hair and everything. He stares at her with dark, reptilian eyes, then says, quite seriously, "I don't like guns." A pause as he raises his hands, showing them to be empty. "Ms. Cameron, what happened?" He cocks his head to one side. "I don't sense anyone but you in the area."

Of ALL the people in Gray Harbor Isi expected to see Alexander Clayton was not it. At all. So she stares. Stares until her brain cells actually fire and she lets out a single ragged question, "Why are you here?" It is free of expletives!

"I was walking. I had some thinking to do. It's easier to think when there aren't people around." Alexander walks across the road, although he's keeping his hands up. He stops in the middle of the road, looks back at some of the skid marks. Then at the side of the road. He walks the rest of the way, looks down the ravine. His eyebrows go up. "That's totaled." He glances back at her, focusing on the arm. "Who ran you off the road?"

Maybe it is the pain, or maybe Isi just isn't actually good at reading people. Regardless her hackles go up at his question, shoulders tensing- a bad idea because holy shit those muscles are connected to the ones in her arm, ow ow ow ow ow ow.

"Does it even fucking matter?" She hisses, defensive for no good reason. "Maybe I'm just a bad driver. Keep was a piece of junk anyway."

Alexander turns to look at her, and his expression is starkly disbelieving. "Tire tracks say there was another car involved. Skid marks down there," he points a little down the road where they had their first altercation, "over there," points to where the truck started its ramming attack, "and here," points at his feet, "suggest that someone deliberately ran you off the road. And you were worried that I was gonna shoot you. Not even the Highway Patrol is that fucking angry about bad drivers."

He moves towards her, frowning at the arm. "Can I see it? You have any other breaks? Ribs?"

Isi doesn't mean to, she really doesn't, but just his motion to try towards her triggers a protective action. She whimpers and steps backwards away from him.

"I think it is broken - anything else, I," and her voice breaks on that forcing her to pause and try to gather her composure, "I don't know."

Alexander freezes when she whimpers, takes a step back himself. His hands come back up, and his voice gentles. "Ms. Cameron. I won't hurt you." He's not really all that good about being reassuring; the body language is awkward and his eyes are still pinned on her with that intense, creepy sort of look. "I'm not a doctor, or anything, but I've gotten the shit kicked out of me enough to know how to patch up some basic wounds. We should get you to a doctor, but I might be able to help a little until we can manage that."

It's decisions time - trust someone Isi doesn't even particularly like, or distrust him, and try to figure out how she's going to get back to town like.... this. She meets his look with her deer in the headlights one and teeters on the edge of the decision for a very very extended minute. Amazing how some things just seem to take forever when they're over in no more than a few breaths.

"I don't have much of a choice." She falls down on the side of trust, for now, probably decided by the way her legs start to shake and threaten to buckle under her.

"Mm," Alexander allows, quietly. "It's a long walk to make by yourself." He lowers his hands and approaches, but carefully, like she still might decide to bolt, or try and clock him over the head with her good arm. He reaches slowly out for her arm and - if she allows - gives it an examination. She may, or may not, notice that he has to force himself to touch her even if she allows it. More, there's another of those feelings - a slow surge of warmth from the place where his hands are closest to her. It pushes back some of the pain, like someone gave her a hit of morphine, but there's no miraculous healing of her wounds.

"Well, that's sure as hell broken. You've got some serious contusions, scrapes...no concussion, no internal bleeding. You got lucky." He looks over the side of the road again. "Who did this?"

Isi DOES notice the way he doesn't seem to want to touch her - but it doesn't give off the same vibe quite like Ravn's does. It's not exactly high on the list of things to comment on directly though, so she'll file it away fro later and let snark take its place. A defense mechanism. "Careful - you'll get my vomit on you. Probably only slightly less disgusting than what you're already covered in though." If he still gets a vibe of her emotions he might see through that snark.

"I Don't fucking know." She turns to look away from him, up the road in the direction the truck went. "Some drunk asshole or something..." because she's not quite ready to accept that this was on purpose in front of someone else just yet.

"It's fine," Alexander mutters, about the vomit. He does look up and glare at the snark, though. "I bathe, you know." Then, with a huff, he turns back to her wound. "I can splint this, but it'll hurt like fuck."

That's when he tests her trust, because he reaches around to the small of his back, and pulls out a big old knife. Bone-handled, and clearly meant to do butchering of animals, and it looks wickedly sharp. Under the bulky old jacket and too-large t-shirt, God only knows what else he's got hidden back there. He flips the knife easily in his hands, and cuts two long strips out of the bottom of his own shirt.

Isi does NOT trust and she DOES shy back a step from him. Something in the back of her mind tickles and it causes her to stop and stare intently at what he is doing.

Defensive snark, go, "Not that I mind the show- but I've seen prettier."

Now, Alexander looks like an overaged roady, with his torn band t-shirt. He gives her a flat look. "I liked this shirt, so you're welcome." He turns away from her to go into the woods. He cuts through a couple of long, straight branches, knocks the tiny side branches off of them, and returns to her. "I'm going to set your arm. Probably. It'll take a while to get back to town unless we call someone, and if we leave it to swell up without being set, it'll be absolute bitch, later. I--" he hesitates, then says, voice flat, "like I said before, it's going to hurt. You should sit down."

A thank you is too much to ask of Isi right now. Any softer emotion is going to cause a whole CASCADE of feelings to erupt and it is bad enough Alexander is seeing her like THIS, let alone whimpering like a kicked puppy. "Figure you would be tasteless, " is what she offers instead. She stares at the wood in his hands a of trying to decide if it is even worth it. But strength only goes so far and she DOES need to sit.

Casting her eyes about shows her a so and she walks unsteadily towards it and sits. Eyes close as she takes quick breaths against the pain the sitting causes. "Just do it, " gets squeezed out from between already clenched teeth.

Alexander follows her to where she sits, and takes a knee before her. "This is a vintage Malmsteen fan shirt. Or it was. I can't help it if you're a musical illiterate." Maybe he knows a little about Isi's coping methods, because as he snarks back to her, he also reaches out and - after just a barest moment of hesitation - reaches out, grabs her arm with both hands and yanks, pulling the bones back into alignment.

It does not feel good. In the next moment, he braces the arm against the branches, and quickly ties it tight to hold the set bone in place, and if she tries to struggle, she'll have to fight him for control of her arm.

Isi will not will not will not yell. It is a mantra she puts on repeat in her mind.

And she succeeds! Well, she doesn't yell. Instead there are a cascade of, "fuck," that fall out of her mouth and one or two not really coherent comments about someone's mother. Maybe Alexander's, maybe the asshole that ran her off the road.

The insults take the place of her fighting him though - so that is a mild success.

At least it's brief. Like he's done this before - or had it done enough to know just how much it hurts. When it's over, he's quick to drop his hands from her and stand back, rising to his feet. His own hands are shaking a little, but Alexander's voice is still flat as he says, "Done. You'll need a cast, but I can't do that." He looks away. "Anybody gonna be waiting at hospitals looking for you? I know most of the shortcuts around town; we can stay off the roads. Can you walk?"

Isi slumps when Alexander moves away. Her native skin is flushed dead pale at the moment and she shakes with reaction. His words seem to get though that sea and she shakes her head slowly to try to make it all come clear.

"No," raspy and quiet before she manages to buck herself up. "No, no one would wonder what happened if I dropped off the world for a while let alone the night."

There is serious considering if she even WANTS to get up. That moss over there looks super soft. But no. Shakly she pushes herself to her feet. "I'll walk if it fucking kills me. You walk - how hard could it be. " Hello false bravado.

"That's not what I meant. I mean, is anyone gonna be waiting at the hospital to finish what they started? Do we need to find, uh, alternative medical attention?" Alexander says it so casually. But he also moves to her non-broken side, and offers her his arm and shoulder for support as she climbs to her feet. His mouth quirks upwards, briefly. "I'm an expert in walking, though. You don't look like you do it much. If it gets to be too much, I'll carry you."

From his smile, he figures that will ensure that she's never going to give up.

Getting up is an activity ALL BY ITSELF. Isi gathers herself together as Alexander suggests it's time to go - but refuses his offer of an arm and shoulder to rise. That last sally did exactly what he expected. She isn't going to take one iota of help that isn't completely necessary.

She's shaky on her feet though, and too focused on her own feet stayign nice and level to realize he just manipulated her. One step - then another. Alright, mobility possible. That's nice.

"I don't know." Isi replies bluntly to his question. "I want this to be just a super off-hinged case of road rage or someone drunk as fuck. Or even one of those fear-things."

Alexander doesn't look upset by her rejection of the offer; in fact, there's a flicker of relief, and he steps back to maintain personal bubble as she tests out this whole 'walking' thing, and finds it possible. He doesn't leave as much space as he usually does between himself and other people; he stays just out of arm's reach, so that if she looks like she's going to faceplant on the asphalt, he can catch her.

There's no attempt to hide the skepticism on his face as she talks, but after a moment he shrugs, and says, "Okay. We'll assume hospital for now. If anyone tries to murder you, we'll readjust. The road slopes downward from here; not far, there's a trail that cuts directly to town. It's off the road, so should be quiet, and it'll be faster." With that, he turns and starts walking, stalking off a few paces before waiting for her to catch up, only to do it all again.

Isi doesn't answer this assertion - all of her attention is focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He is being particularly useful, as a mini-goal to attain. Even when they hit that downward slope she keeps up the slow shuffle of to him, pause for breath, then again. At times she starts heaving again , but since there is nothing left to throw up no more mess is added.

It's about two thirds of the way when her body betrays her. A tree root sitting there oh-so-innocently is the perfect catch for her foot and she falls, rolling further down the trail. She'll stop herself eventually, but that's enough to make her lose some of her composure and cry again.

Alexander reaches out to try and catch her when she tips over, but she rolls right past him and down the trail. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, and then follows where she has come to rest. Whether she likes it or not, he reaches out to pick her up, carefully avoiding the broken arm, and sling her good arm around his shoulders, and slip one arm around her waist. "Here. Don't break any more bones." He doesn't comment on the tears, although he clearly notices them.

The amount of hurt has slowly overcome the amount of composure Isi has, so she doesn't fight him when he helps her up. She'll accept the help till they get to the bottom of the hillside - without any snarky or nasty comments thrown in to boot.

When they DO get to more level ground her pride makes her start to pull away from him. "I have to stop - just, just for a moment." She doesn't move to sit, just stands with her head down. Blood, dirt, and smears of grease with a garnish of leaves and sticks. It could be a whole new look - as long as the aim is to make people look away.

Into the pause she lets out a reluctant, "Thank you."

Alexander doesn't resist her pulling away; he skitters back to his preferred distance as soon as she can stand on her own. He doesn't argue, but he does reach into his jacket to pull out his phone. "This is cruel," he says, after a moment. "I'm calling an Uber. You can't walk all the way to the hospital." He gives a sidelong look at her. "You're welcome," is given just as reluctantly, and he makes an uncomfortable grimace as he starts entering information into the app.

Stubborn pride makes her mouth open to refuse - but pain makes her shut up before words come out. Instead - a small nod and she turns her back onto Alexander. Breathing deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. It's something to give her some sense of control. She also walks towards a tree and reaches out her good hand for it to take advantage of the extra stability.

It'll be a while before a car comes and the interruption in movement means Isi has time to think. Of all the important stuff what comes out is... "My wallet is still in the damn car."

Alexander paces. He trudges back into the forest for a bit, then back out onto the road, making a large, rough circle around Isi. At her words, he frowns. He glances at Isi. "You need me to go get it? Would you be all right on your own?" He seems reluctant to just go - whether that's because he doesn't want to, or because he's worried she might just try and walk off and fall off a cliff or something, he doesn't say.

"Yes - no - I don't know." That's not particularly helpful Isi. She moves from just having a hand resting on the tree to leaning against it fully with her eyes closed. It doesn't look like she's going to walk anywhere particularly soon. "My ID and insurance card are in it. Can you get into a hospital without them?"

"Yes, but they'll be grumpy about it," Alexander says, like someone who has been in that position more than once. He stares at her for a long moment, his expression fierce, intense, staring through her. Then he sighs, and reaches back to the small of his back for the big ass knife. He pulls it out, offers it to her hilt first. "Keep this while I'm gone. Don't break it. Don't stab anyone who doesn't need to be stabbed. Don't die."

Then he turns and starts jogging back to the place the Jeep went off the road. Luckily, he doesn't have a broken arm, or broken anything, so it probably won't take him long to make his way down to the Jeep and give it a cursory search over for the wallet.

"... do you keep a knife in your ass?" It's a weak joke as Isi pushes away from the tree so her good hand can take up the knife. She holds it, awkwardly, looking down at it and then back up at him. Maybe there would be more coming if he didn't get his giddy-up on and goes into the forest.

"Fucker has too much energy," Isi says to herself, the knife coming to hang limply at her side. Hopefully whomever tried to kill her doesn't come by, because there's nothing she can do about it.

"Something has to keep the stick company," Alexander deadpans. And then he's gone.

He eventually comes back, smelling like gasoline and old smoke, with her wallet in his hands. No one else has come by the lonely road, although he glances down the road and says, "Car's coming." He reaches out both hands; one, with her wallet. The other, empty, gesturing towards his knife.

Isi startles when he walks up, having fallen into a half-doze of pain fog. Not the height of awareness that Alexander was probably expecting her to have while holding on to his inappropriately sized knife. It takes a blink or two to be able to hand over the knife and take her wallet. It's a suspicious nature that has her opening it and glancing through it. There's no physical money, just some credit cards, the drivers license, and the aforementioned insurance card.

The sound of the car has her moving as far to one side of the roadway as she can. The experience with the truck doesn't have her really wanting much to do with moving vehicles. Thankfully, most ubers aren't pick-ups with muddy plates. Her wallet is gripped tightly into her hand.

"I'll pay you back." She says abruptly, "when I have cash or something."

Alexander gives a disapproving look at her state of alertness while hiding his in-no-way-inappropriately-sized knife. Being half dead is no excuse for poor weapon discipline, that expression says. But he doesn't say anything as he takes the knife and slides it back into its hidden sheath. The wallet looks like it's either been rifled through, or it was spilled and he put it back in order. But nothing is missing.

As the car approaches, he moves to put himself between the road and her. He doesn't look back at her abrupt offer. "If you want," is all he says, and then waves down the Uber driver who pulls up. It's a man in his mid twenties, who looks Alexander up and down.

"Clayton. At least you're not covered in shit, this time."

"Yes. That was unpleasant," Alexander agrees. He steps aside so Isi can be seen, and the driver whistles.

"Oh, there's the weird shit. You didn't--"

"No. Car accident. I was walking. She needs to go to the hospital." A look back at Isi. "You want me to go with you?"

Wavering happens as Alexander talks to the driver, noting the way thehy're familiar with one another, and talk of shit - that'll be a time for something else. Also for being called a weird shit, "You aren't too pretty yourself buck-o." Isi snaps back. the snapping decides her and she shakes her head minutely. "I'm fine." Lie, " just... thanks." Again. That's like three times she's said it today and it itches like hell to be saying it to Alexander. It's her turn this time to give him some wide berth, moving for the far side of the car stiffly. She stares at her wallet and the doorknob for the puzzle they are before stuffing the wallet into her ripped shirt - at least her bra is still intact - and fumbling the door open.

The Uber-dude does have the grace to look ashamed when Isi snaps back at him. "Sorry, ma'am." He lowers his voice as she fumbles her way inside to say, "Just, usually with Crazy Clayton, it's something fucked up, y'know? You're lucky he didn't, like, bury your body in the woods somewhere. Guy creeps me out." He goes back to conversational volume and gives Alexander a cheery wave. "Well, guess we'll be off. Uh. You have a nice...walk. I guess."

Alexander pretty much ignores him now that the necessary information has been conveyed. He stares at Isi for a moment, then says, "Don't die." He also rattles off a series of numbers. Assuming Isi a) remembers that, b) gains access to a phone, and c) decides to call or text those numbers, she'll find that they're his. Then he turns and walks off into the woods, back towards the trail leading directly to town.

Thankfully, numbers are something that come easily to Isi. Plus there are places on the reservation that simply don't have cell phone coverage, so the old tried and true way of memorizing numbers is still a norm. It takes a few repetitions for her to have it for at least long enough to write it down. She keeps straight up and nods at the 'don't die'. "No promises," and the facade stays in place until he turns and leaves. Only then does her pride let her slump into the cushion of the back seat and close her eyes.

"It might feel better," the whole being buried by crazy Clayton - good alliteration on that, "than how I'm actually feeling. He put a splint on my arm." That she says to the driver, with that being the last thing she DOES say until they arrive at the hospital and she levers herself out of the car with a vague apology for the mess her butt left on the seat, before stumbling into the hospital.