<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v140/Lockepick/Character%20Pictures/6e6c4fa8-8c63-426d-8be2-dff93c9e04cd_zps0d60e44c.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>:<em>Hospital Corpsman Third Class</em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">James Endast</span><br/><strong>Location</strong>: Antartica: At Cubicle #18<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Not Sure<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>James couldn't help but notice the injured man as soon as he opened the door, he had been trained to seek out that kind of thing. The rest of the room got only a cursory glance, mainly for anything that might cause more danger or risk to the potential patient. He nearly slipped on the ground with his urgency, his boots tracking in ice and snow. He closed the distance and dropped to his knees next to the older man. He offered quiet consolations to the man, "Hey, Hey! Look at me... I'm here to help, we're going to get you out of here. What's your name? Where are you hurt?"<br/><br/>It was obvious the man had at least the blow to his head, but the conversation was more to get a gauge for his faculties. He had no pen light to test the man's eyes, and the lack of reaction made him nervous the man was in shock. He reached up to gently grip the man's wrist, pulling that hand away to get a quick look at the extent of the damage before letting the man reapply the pressure to the wound. He looked quickly at the rest of the man's body, looking for blood soaking through, tears in the suit, or anything bending the wrong way.