A whole new clan! Grrreat!

One person stayed behind to wait with John while Lord Brighton and his men followed him back out of the hospital. Only one person. When the redheaded man went, Robyn left with him, talking in a hushed tone and debriefing him on the events that had transpired within the barrier. She mentioned the enemies she had seen, Taylor's body, and a wounded prisoner that she had taken in a fight, before they both walked out of earshot and John couldn't hear anymore. Strangely enough, John didn't hear her mention the person with brown hair that had disappeared with Cassandra. He wasn't too astonished; John had barely noticed the girl himself.

The one who did stay behind with John stared right at him when they were finally the only ones left in the room. She was clearly unnerved at his still bloody presence and began to shift awkwardly in place when he stared back at her. Her small, cherubic face gazed at him from below with her short stature and bright, green-blue eyes. Her straight, short, blonde hair hung like a gentle curtain around her softer features, framing them like a still and beautiful image, though not because she couldn't move. She just wasn't moving. Aside from the occasional twitch or shift between her feet, her petite form remained in place as if locked there while John looked her over.

She was shorter than most of the women that he had met over the past week and certainly not as shapely. Her slender form retracted slightly from his gaze, her thin hands wrapping around her stomach as if to cover herself up if she needed to, but for once, John wasn't filled with the need to ogle at or fantasize about the beautiful women around him. He was in a hospital, and despite how cute her miniature appearance might have been, he found himself more concerned about who she was rather than what her gender was. He eyed her suspiciously, noting the presence of a large, blue suitcase at her side, but he found nothing overly suspicious... even after he used Observe.

Tricia Gorbachev
Level 9 Scythian Healer
<Gorbachev Opekuny>
HP: 150 / 150
Effects: Eye of Gorbachev (closed)
Relationship: 10

"You're a healer..." John muttered and looked up from his pop-ups, past her navy-blue jeans and plain, black t-shirt. Her brow lifted slightly, and her eyes widened as he spoke; her mouth opened as if to answer him, but he didn't bother waiting for her confirmation. "Can you heal anyone? Monster or human?"

"I am. They brought me out here for the civilian who had been wounded, but it depends on the wound... and how much time I have to analyze them beforehand. I'm only supposed to heal them if-" John didn't give her the time to finish her sentence. He merely interrupted her, pointing across the room with a hard finger.

"Can you heal him?" he asked and gestured over to the room where Grace's younger brother was recovering. Giva sat with her back to them in the middle of the room, watching her son with an impatient, worried look.

"I-I'm only supposed to help the civilian, and that's only if she-" Again, John interrupted her.

"Please. Please, I-I'll distract his mother if I have to, but he doesn't deserve to be here," John said and watched as Tricia opened her mouth to speak again. "Please..." Her brow sunk low as she tried to match his heavy gaze... but after what Chad had done, John wasn't about to stop asking her for help. Eventually, she nodded, and John outright hugged her for it. His strength proved to be more than enough to lift the little blonde girl off her feet as he held her close for a long minute, and then when he put her back down, she quickly backed away from him with a flushed, red face. Her breathing was slightly heavier than what it had originally been, but before John could check to make sure she was okay, she ushered him off with a wave of her hand.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard to get Giva out of the room. She was resistant at first, but when he offered to treat her to some food and asked her for help, she seemed more than ready for the chance to occupy her mind with anything that wasn't reality by that point. Like John's own mother, Brenda, Giva was a particularly full-bodied woman. Her muscle tone was lighter, and she was more filled out than Grace was, with generous round curves trapped within a tight, warm, woolen, red sweater and clinging, faded, blue jeans. She wasn't defined or even particularly muscular; she was soft and gentle to the touch, like years of being focused on her duties as a housewife had filled her out a bit. She still seemed somewhat slim around the waist, probably from many attempts at dieting, but the slightest hint of a belly could be seen under her top. Her tired state was made all the more obvious by the wrinkles and bags around her eyes, but she hid it well. If she wasn't actively trying to speak with John, she seemed like she was hiding or trying to hide behind a wall of her own long, sinuous, jet black hair. Her bright amber-colored eyes seemed almost dim, but she was more than excited to talk to John about his work with her daughter, how hard he had hit Chad when he met him, and how brave her daughter had been to finally break up with Chad and go to that marathon.

That last bit turned out to be more than a bit of a surprise for John, and Giva picked up on it, while he was trying to wash the blood and grime off his hands before they ate. She smiled knowingly at him, as if the fact that he wasn't at least Chad somehow made it okay, and then asked him about the ridiculous outfit he was wearing.

"Uh... Comic-con. I was gonna go to a convention after the Marathon," he told her, after idly remembering that he had said the same thing to the cops when they had tried questioning him, and she giggled and walked back to the room with him while he tried to take the armor off by hand. It was a lot harder to do than he had initially thought, and Giva offered to help him when she saw how he struggled with it. Unfortunately, when they got back to the room, John could still see a faint, red glow emanating from within. He went to try and distract Giva some more, to try and talk to her about anything he could think of before a doctor came forward and interrupted them.

"Mrs. Giva Patel?" he said, reading her name off of a piece of paper snapped to a clipboard.

"Miss," she numbly corrected the doctor who stopped them before they could reach the door to her son's room. "My husband died some time ago." He apologized and nodded at her for a moment before ushering her off to a nearby room. At John's request, she allowed him to follow them in. The doctor gently sat them down when they were alone, and then he lifted up a clipboard and read off Grace's full name.

"I'm afraid I have some good news and bad news. The good news is that your daughter is now out of surgery." There was a small cry of relief from Grace's mother. "The surgeons did what they could to stop her bleeding and fix the damage that had been done to her, and a lot of it was successful." John could see Giva crossing her fingers in her lap as the doctor spoke, and a part of him felt like he knew what she was wishing for. If there was bad news, then at the very least let it be something simple like she needed a transplant. Something easy and fixable... or at least something that she could live with. "However... your daughter's body has still sustained too much damage. Many of her vital organs were nicked or, in some cases, shredde..." His voice almost seemed to die off in John's ears as he looked at the doctor. The red glow of Tricia's healing finally disappeared, and she left the room where she had been working while Giva sobbed horribly at the table. The doctor continued rumbling for some time, pausing at some moments until Giva could catch her breath, and then he tried to finish.

"Right now, the only thing keeping her alive are... machines. She's not awake and won't wake up while connected to them, but if you would like a chance to say goodbye to her then now might be the time..." John almost wanted to punch him in the face. It was surprising to him how quickly that had become his instinct, but it felt like a good one to have. It felt satisfying.

"Is-is there a chance that she might...?" Giva eventually managed to sputter out half of a sentence, and the doctor lowered his head.

"By this point, it would take a miracle." John looked back out of the room towards Tricia as she set her briefcase next to her and reclined into a patient position in one of the purple waiting seats.

Or magic... he thought with a knowing look and then turned back as the doctor went to excuse himself from the room to give them privacy. His eyes honed in on the man as he followed out of the room and then grabbed him by the shoulder to spin him around.

"Where is she?"