Having pulled out the first-aid kit he'd wisely stolen from Credinta a while back, Mello was sitting on the worn couch in the living room, his coat and shirt stripped off and slung over the back of the couch. He hadn't had a chance to turn on the generator yet--and clearly, nobody had been here in a few days--so the room was freezing, but he had no time to mind that now.

Mello looked up at the knock, and was about to call for Fay to come in when the other pushed inside anyway, earning himself a strict look but, surprisingly, no reprimand. Mello only pursed his lips critically, sparing him only a glance before looking back down to toss aside the blood-drenched cloth over his left arm and replace it with another, pressing hard.

"I got shot," he stated the obvious, in flawless French to match Fay's language.