<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/736x/d9/98/1e/d9981e79a951efe0acb3b4d05f1a5ac1.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Jena Hargreave<br/><strong>Location:</strong>XCOM Barracks<br/><strong>Action:</strong>Painting with Bullets; First<del>L</del>Aid<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Hailey<br/><br/>With the headgear on, and the AR burping out single rounds and short bursts, it wasn't until Jena finished punching a complex smiley face into the paper target that she was aware of what had happened to Hailey. Safing her gun, setting it down, and turning, she gave the seated girl a confused look at first.<br/><br/>"What the hell you doin' down there, hun?" Then she noticed the broken glass, the fact that the Aussie was squirming uncomfortably...and the traces of blood.<br/><br/>"Oh, shitfire," she growled, grabbing an Emergency Aid kit off the wall. "And the bottle still a third full, too." She stopped just short of the puddle of booze and fragments, staring down at her bare feet. "Hun, a gal that can't hold her likker is a sorrowful state of affairs, in my book. I mean, we all fall down once in a while..." She looked around for a second, found a wood ammo crate up against one wall. Shoving it  ahead of her, grunting with the effort, thighs and forearms bunching like a rock climber, she used it to bulldoze a path to her injured teammate. "God in Heaven, though, bitch, didja HAVE ta drop the bottle?"<br/><br/>Bending (which made the bottom hem of her croptop ride up enough to be illegal in most states), she offered a hand to the fallen gunner. "Git up here, bend yerself over the crate, and drop yer drawers. Let's see how bad off you are." One Hailey was upright, Jena busied herself with poking through the Aid kit, coming up with disinfectant, gauze and tape, and tweezers.