"Your side of the street's a little darker than mine."

By the time those same people get to the ER, they're just that: people. Hurt, scared, mad as hell — but they all need help.

She takes his hand and turns it over, her thumb brushing his swollen knuckles in the process.

"Ibuprofen," she adds by way of explanation, placing the pills in his palm, "and I found ginger ale for your stomach, if you want some."