Somebody'd been using up supplies from the kitchen first aid kit again without refilling it. Which was why Mildmay made a point of checking it every decad, so's nobody ended up needing one of the sticky bandages or burn cream with none to be found. All it needed was a quick trip to the clinic, and he was puzzling through how so many damn people couldn't seem to think ahead the littlest bit, when he opened the door and just... stopped.

"Fuck. Me. Sideways," muttered under his breath as he took it all in. The walls, covered in anatomy drawings – another time, Mildmay's instincts might go to what he knew about those parts and how easy they were to leave a person lying dead – and words he didn't have no chance of understanding even if he could sound 'em out. And at the center, Jackson, looking...

"You gone batfuck?"