"You know, in a way you're lucky," she says conversationally as she returns. Kim's carrying a couple of clean and folded sheets, some gauze, rubbing alcohol, and a few other odds and ends.

"At least you kidnapped someone with experience treating wounds like yours." She sets everything on a nearby table and draws up a chair, then leans forward to slip an arm under his knees, trying to help reposition him.

"Feet flat on the bed, knees bent. Lie as still as you can."

She shoves a lock of white hair behind one ear and meets his gaze without evasion.

"I don't have anything to help with the pain. I'm sorry."