Mehmet still had a leg somehow locked up between the wheel and handlebars. He remained silent, unnaturally bent pinky pointing back accusingly at himself.

“You’re such a nice young man,” Anita said, hoarsely, to the doctor, then finally got up from the tangle of bicycle and injuries.

The odor wafted with her, thicker than the sea breeze.

Tristan nearly gagged when the woman got up. Still, she had made a fall and so she was a patient. The crowd was now non-existent. He turned back to the scene where all the drama had occurred and found that only one person had been stupid enough not to run.

"Tobias! Please get this woman to a doctor?"

Then he moved back to the other injured person. Oh dear. How had he overlooked that leg? He observed the awkward entanglement for a moment. Then he knelt down and took handlebars carefully. "If I lift this and move it to the right, sir, will you be able to move your leg?" he asked.

Tobias would rather do anything right now than take some stranger to the doctor. He had just been publicly humiliated and sneered at by his wife running wild, had then been accused of beating said wife, and had then had to drag said wife's father off of a man he himself had been eager to punch only seconds prior.

Couldn't everyone just give him a break?

But he walked over the the woman anyway... and stopped a few feet short because a wall of revolting body (?) odor hit him. There was an unpleasant movement in his throat that he could barely suppress and he felt nauseous. His eyes shifted to Tristan and narrowed a little. Really, mate?

"I'm not sure where the nearest doctor is."

Hm. A doctor sounded like it might … cost something. Something more than a “free” bicycle.

Especially for a finger like the stocky gentleman’s. Was he a gentleman? Or was he going to need someone else to foot the bill?

“Here, dear, let me help you,” she said, pleasantly, though ‘help’ seemed to be shaking the bike off of him.

What he meant to say was, “no, thank you kindly miss,” but then the jostling bike hit his finger and twisted his leg.

What came out was a howl instead.

Tristan gave Tobias an irritated look. His patience with his old friend had long run out and now this? He opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind, when he felt the bike jerked from his hands, fell back and heard a howl. Oh God. She looked like she was as fine as she'd get and the most important thing would be to keep her from doing harm to others. And he, well, he looked like he was in even more pain now.

"Ma'm, please, will you stand back?" He said, getting up and putting himself between the now even more injured man and the lady with the two-wheeled weapon, stretching his arms to keep her from getting close again. "Tobias... just... get her out of here, will you?"

He hated today.

Why did he have to deal with her? He was already dealing with one woman set on destruction in his life. And at least Alice didn't stink.

But he also didn't feel like making more enemies today. And so he stepped up to the drunk woman and tried not to breathe in while he said: "Right, lets get ye home then, ma'm."

Stand back? What a lovely idea. Anita stepped back, and back, and back – straight into Tobias’ chest, stronger than the ocean breeze that likely already clung to him.

“Oh, no, that’ll be--” wait, that didn’t sound like having to pay. “Thank you, sir.”

She turned around and grasped his hand in both of hers, sweat from the oar and unwashed drag chafing skin.

“You’re too kind.”

This whole ‘being able to smell’ thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.