Hans obligingly looked away as she removed her pants, busying himself with the medical kit, then turning back to her when she was settled. He understood her modesty and embarrassment, and a part of him approved. But another part of him, the part that had staffed the LAGH emergency room on the far-too-aptly named 'graveyard shift', had seen girls her age and younger in greater states of undress and far more greviously wounded. He knew the best way to put her at ease regarding her partial near-nudity was to simply ignore it, so he did, carefully setting about cleaning the scraped flesh on her knee and shin.<br/><br/>With the kit's tweezers, he extracted two tiny strands of jean fabric from the injury, then washed it thoroughly - several times - with another cup of water, catching the mixture of water, blood, and dirt in a clean cup, then throwing it away and applying the gauze wrap. "I am sorry, I vill have to bind this tighter than I did your arm, else it vill come off vhen you put your pants back on." Indeed, he wrapped it as tightly as he could without risking loss of circulation, tying it in place with an extra dose of the antibiotic cream.<br/><br/>Standing, he turned away from her again, then twitched as a pair of faint roars came from somewhere outside the motel. A shotgun, he was certain of it...but who would it have been?