The man's blood was black as calligraphy ink--was it ink, Setsuko wondered absently? But at least he was well enough to speak, and that was a good sign, even if his voice reminded her of rustling papers.

Although the room stocked with supplies wasn't far, she wasn't quite sure if she could help the man there herself. If only there was something or someone she could find...!

Her eyes clapped upon a chair with wheels attached, something like the device with which Dor had used to move about, when they had met in the hotel.

"Here," she said, rolling the chair over. "If you'd get on, we can get you someplace where I can see to your injuries."

(OOC: What's the main issue with Bitterdin? Bomb blast, I'm guessing? Multiple lacerations?)