It sounded dramatic. And it did look dramatic at a first glance. Two grown ups tending to a third with a bleeding bandage around his hand. Blood and glass all over the floor. He briefly glanced at Mr. Meijer, but then put his bag on the table and stepped forward. "How bad is the hand? Where's the cut?" He reached out to take the hand and cloth from the lady. "Any other injuries?"

Zechariah did glance at Kitty at that one. For once, it was him who felt complimented and insulted at the same time.

With all his observation skills, what Zechariah noticed most was that that blood was coming dangerously close to his sleeve. “Let me grab another cloth.”

He set the bloody cloth on the table, leaving precariously teetering Uriel to wash his hands and search for a new cloth.

How could the day get worse? When Zechariah turned his head to see who Noah brought … it was the only doctor in town he knew.

“Are there no other doctors in town?” flew in a fury out of his disgruntled mouth as he dried his hands. “… Good to see you, Dr. Wells,” he hastily added afterward.

Kitty was in a panic when he went unconscious. She tried to keep him upright while holding their son. "Uriel!"

Just then, Noah came with the doctor. "Thank God! Doctor, please, I can't wake him up! The cut was bad but not that bad! He can't handle blood though..and when I came in the room he'd fainted once already."

She had tears in her eyes but fought them falling as she wasn't gonna show weakness in front of these men, especially Zechariah.

Mr. Meijer was unconscious because of a cut in his hand? No wonder James said all the kids in school bullied him more brutally than they bullied any child.

He watched.

He hadn't expected anything less from Mr. Meijer, but it wasn't that frat boy he was here for. He helped the lady keep the injured man stable in the chair with one hand, and took the other to take the bleeding hand and inspect it. "Hand me that cloth, boy," he told the kid who had brought him here. "Never mind its bloody for now." He held the hand up in the air. "How long has he been bleeding like this?" he asked the woman.

Fortunately for Kitty, Zechariah was too busy pretending he was not thinking the exact same thing as Noah despite being the first to scream bloody murder over a hangnail.

“A few minutes now,” Zechariah answered from the sink instead.

By now he was just assuming Dr. Wells’ gaze could only hold champagne and fresh-as-fish foreigners.

Kitty frowned as she rolled Abe to keep him quiet. "I suppose that's right. I woke to something crashing to the floor, you see..." she gave zech a look before turning to the doctor. "I came in and saw him on the floor. He woke up and said he'd cut his hand and then he was looking all pale and fell unconscious just before you arrived."

Noah didn't mind cleaning up manure, but touching Mr. Meijer's blood stained cloth?! The other Mr. Meijer didn't seem in a rush to get a fresh one however and he didn't want to get in trouble either. Reluctantly, he moved to the table, picked it up, holding it as far away from the rest of his body as possible, and handed it to the doctor.

Tristan quietly wondered what role Mr. Meijer had played in the injury and collapse, but he kept that question to himself.

Several minutes. That was some heavy bleeding. He took the cloth and pressed it as firmly as he could against the cut, still holding the hand up. He still kept the injured man from falling to his side with his hip. It would probably be better to put him down on the floor, but it would mean releasing pressure on the wound again.

"Good lad, come stand at the other side, so your mistress can tend to the baby." The infant looked very young, and if it was hers, it was too early for her to be up and worrying herself sick like this. He could have asked Mr. Meijer. But there was someone else to ask, so...

He hardly trusted a child to hold another child, but the alternative was Zechariah doing it.

Hm. This was a nice hand towel, and the doctor was reusing the bloody one anyway (ew!). After a moment, though, Zechariah finally came over with the nice towel.

“Did you wash your hands first?” Zechariah asked, holding the towel out to him at a significant distance.