A boy named Sous

Priestly clutched her to his bare chest, unmindful of the blood, a single, artful tear trailing its way from the corner of his eye.

That was a skill entire careers were made on, it was.

"Dinah. Dinah, my love, don't leave me. It'll all be okay, you'll see."

It might, even, if he bothered to, say, call 911 or do anything to stop the bleeding. But while manfully carrying her into the clinic would be dramatic, their contracts didn't last that long.