Poor Uriel... He just couldn't catch a break. First, his family made fun of him and jabbed at him all the time for his choices, then he had to make peace with the family over said life choices somehow, not because he was remotely interested in getting backed by his family after all this time... And it just went on and on. Now he was a complete mess and he couldn't seem to open his eyes even as he heard vague voices. This man just had no luck other than Kitty and Abraham.

Kitty was thankful the doctor was helping and even thought of her and Abraham. She wasn't going to move until she was sure Noah was up to it. She frowned sharply at Zechariah and lightly stroked Uriel's hair hoping to soothe him even if he was unconscious. "He's a doctor, ain't he?" She looked to the other man in worry. "He'll be alright, won't he?"

Noah did as he was told and supported Mr. Meijer, even though he got blood on his shoes. Eww.

Tristan held out his hand for the cloth, but it was too far for him to reach without moving away from the injured man and letting him fall. He half suspected it was on purpose at this point and gave the man a look. "He should be alright, but we want to stop this bleeding as quickly as possible," he told the lady, though he still looked at Mr. Meijer. "We'll worry about properly cleaning the wound after that."

“Christians fail to wash their hands and then burn us at the stake for surviving the plague,” Zechariah deadpanned.

He stayed carefully out of the blood pool range, shoes dry – the most important part of all.

When the doctor failed to clear the distance, clearly because he was an incompetent doctor! Zechariah leaned a palm on the table so he could lift his foot and pass the hand cloth without soiling the nicest openly visible parts of his outfit left.

If someone was studying his shoes that closely, after all, did that not make them a prime candidate the implicated sodomite?

Kitty stared at Zechariah as if he'd become some stranger in her home. "He's your brother! If you want it clean, get a water basin and soap!" She almost raised her voice but kept herself quiet for Abe and rocked him closing her eyes. She was so tired and stressed, and she sat as soon as the others held Uriel up. She stared at him in worry, then looked towards the doctor. "Is there anything else you need?"

[CW: reference to racism and class discrimination]

Tristan had received plenty of scorn in his life - mostly over the colour of his skin and his working class birth - but he hadn't ever been treated with hostility over being a Christian. Possibly because he wasn't one.

His eyebrows traveled up, but he didn't respond. He was here to see a patient, not argue with a grown up child. "Thank you," he said, as he took the cloth. "Water and soap would be great," he replied to the lady, but looked at Mr. Meijer. Then he turned back to the patient, quickly changing the cloth, dropping the other on the already dirty floor, and he continued to apply pressure. Why did this not stop bleeding?

Uriel was his brother – and Kitty was now his sister-in-law, so he did what he’d do with any older overbearing sibling: he rolled his eyes.

Welcome to the family, Kitty.

There was a sidelong look at her … and then Zechariah did something Uriel would have mainly seen with their sisters: he actually did what he was told. He went and got said water basin and soap.

Kitty stared for a moment when he left to get the stuff to clean up. She sighed heavily, and leaned back against her seat as she held Abe and looked to the doctor and down at Uriel in worry. She tried to remember if she'd ever seen him get cut before but she couldn't.

"Is there nothing I can do at all?" She asked him helplessly. She hated this feeling and wouldn't allow alcohol in the house again after this. Though she'd definitely miss it, she already did.

The blood flow was finally starting to ebb but it didn't slow to a stop, it was oozing blood but no longer bleeding profusely. Uriel, still light headed, cracked an eye open and blinked in surprise when he saw the doctor standing there holding the cloth to his hand. He looked around and saw the worry on his wife's face. The big, ashen man said, "I'll be alright, it's a scratch..." A scratch that needed stitches badly.