[Open Frequency] Sending my thanks, Riviaira

[Combat Logo]

*Logan sits against a tree, taking in the scenery as he rummages through his bag for his radio. Once he pulls it out, he switches over to an unused frequency and then waits for a moment. He looks down an his left leg, at the spot were he got shot. Logan presses down on the talk button.*

"This is a... uhhh... message for Riviaira, from Logan. The guy that you pulled the bullet out of his left leg and then gave him the walking splint. I'm sorry for not thanking you in person, something came up on the radio that I had to go help with. So I guess I'll have to thank you on the radio. So, thank you for patching me up there. I owe you for it. So if you need anything, just ask. The leg is doing alright."

*Logan pats his left thigh, and you immediately can hear the muffled sound of him holding back a hiss of pain. He comes back a second later.*

"It... uhhh... still hurts like hell though. But hey, that's life. Oh, and one more thing. I shall emit defeat. You can make better pumpkins than I can. Maybe I should just put up my hoe and pack up the fertilizer, because I can't compete with all the talented pumpkin farmers out there. *chuckles* Well, thanks again, safe travels out there, and God's speed to your next destination."

*Logan lets go of the button and leans his head back against the tree. Mental note: No more patting the injured leg when joking about it. Logan sighs and closes his eyes, and tries to get some sleep.*

[Mademoiselle]

Riviaira sat in the corner of the barn, strumming her finger tips against her knee. Leaning her head back as she grasped the last drop of pipsi. She sighed, overcoming thoughts of people wanting to shoot her and her friends. She stared at the radio, clueless thinking. She thought she had flicked her radio off. Obviously not. She muttered under her breath, "So useless with radios Riv..." She swipes the radio from out of her bag. Replying.

"Hey Logan, glad to see... sorry.... HEAR you. My mind is a little over the place right now. I'm sorry I couldn't give anything to take the pain away in the future... If you want I can check you up to see how your leg is doing. The splint should provide a bit more strength and stability. Even so, keep changing the bandages."

Her voice became enthusiastic.

"If you don't, it's gonna get infected!"

She clears her throat, she was only trying to cheer herself up after having to run through a town. She was temporarily deaf still.

"Seriously though, keep changing the bandages. Annnd if you smell anything funky. Contact me ASAP."

She sighed, it was down and heavy as it captured on the transmission.

"Stay safe Sir. Riviaira out."

[Combat Logo]

*Logan slowly enters the house, slightly limping, panting, having run for God knows how long. He slumps down against the wall and pulls his back pack off. He has two grazes, one on his right leg and one on his left. He pulls out his radio and a turns it on to listen to Riviaira's response. Logan starts to roll up his pants legs to were the grazes are, then duck tapes down the button so he could talk while he works.*

"Hey Riviaira, I'll make sure to change them. Although, I guess I got some grazes to add to my list of wounds."

*Logan gentle applied the rag with rubbing alcohol to one of the grazes. You can hear him yell in the background, "Fuck, grrr... *sigh*." A moment later he can be heard more clearly.*

"I... I don't mind if you come to check my leg out, but I feel like I would be wasting your time... But if you still do, contact me. Safe travels out there.

*Logan takes the tap off the button and continues to apply the rag to the other graze on his left leg. He was going to need to get used to this.*

[Combat Logo]

Riviaira sat in the corner of the barn, strumming her finger tips against her knee. Leaning her head back as she grasped the last drop of pipsi. She sighed, overcoming thoughts of people wanting to shoot her and her friends. She stared at the radio, clueless thinking. She thought she had flicked her radio off. Obviously not. She muttered under her breath, "So useless with radios Riv..." She swipes the radio from out of her bag. Replying.

"Hey Logan, glad to see... sorry.... HEAR you. My mind is a little over the place right now. I'm sorry I couldn't give anything to take the pain away in the future... If you want I can check you up to see how your leg is doing. The splint should provide a bit more strength and stability. Even so, keep changing the bandages."

Her voice became enthusiastic.

"If you don't, it's gonna get infected!"

She clears her throat, she was only trying to cheer herself up after having to run through a town. She was temporarily deaf still.

"Seriously though, keep changing the bandages. Annnd if you smell anything funky. Contact me ASAP."

She sighed, it was down and heavy as it captured on the transmission.

"Stay safe Sir. Riviaira out."

*Logan tries to slowly sit down, sliding down the wall of a garage in Zelenogorsk. He stares at his legs, and the intense pain that he is feeling is making him wish he had some morphine at that moment. He decides he need to get some help. Logan pulls out his radio and turns to the frequency of someone he remembered he could try to contact. He presses down on the talk button.*

"... Riviaira... its... its Logan. I have kind of gotten myself into a shitty situation. I now got a bullet in the right leg now. The... the left leg is doing fine as fair as I can tell. I uhhhh, I will understand if you are too busy to pull this bullet out of me, I can keep moving on it. I just don't have the supplies to properly clean it, and the bullet probably doesn't need to stay in there... I need to keep moving, just uhhh, don't worry about it. I'll find a way to get it taken care of."

*Logan sighs and you can hear him mutter in the background, "I have to think of something soon... real soon." Logan can be heard a moment later.*

"Alright... You stay safe out there. And uhhh, keep growing the best pumpkin out there. *chuckles weakly*"

*Logan lets go of the button and sighs. Then he slowly pulls himself up and slowly walks out of the garage.*