Levering himself up to his feet now that the immediate danger is passed, Havel turns his head sharply from left to right blinking hard as he tries to clear his vision. Fear and anger both went quiet under the rigid self-discipline he had learned from the veterans, back at Annum...<br/><br/>"That dog-sucker priest did some freaky shit to my eyes. Can't see a fuckin' thing, like I woke up starin' at the sun." He'd done that a time or two, and it was always unpleasant, but it always faded away. This didn't seem to be following the trend. Clenching a fist to cover the tremor in his hands, he shakes his head again. "I can't ride, and I doubt Yankee can either. Get to Ruth's, tell her she'll deal directly with me for payment, bring her here."<br/><br/>He heard Morgan's startled intake of breath at that last. While each Company Man could barter with their own goods, or convince others to help them out, the Captain controlled the communal resources of the Company itself; bikes, gas, guns, ammo... water. That meant Havel was writing the Angel a blank check to save Yankee's life, within reason. She'd still have to haggle with him.<br/><br/>"I'll stay here, wait for the other Company Men. They should be coming back by this road any minute now. We'll bunker down here, until you get back. I'll see what I can do for 'im. Gimme everything you got in your 'kit, stabs, bandages, all of it. He's gonna need it." Company Men didn't carry proper medical gear, of course, but it stood to reason that they'd each have something on them to stop the bleeding, given their profession. He knew that a few people had pain-stabs and such, so it was worth a shot to demand them as well.