After what seemed like an eternity, Moose finally exited the convoy. Heaven was waiting outside, leaning against the SUV this time.
"He's alright now?" she asked, turning her head to Moose.
"Well," Moose glanced back, catching Primo glaring at him. "He's fine. Good thing the bullet didn't move around too much."
"Good." Heaven stepped away from the vehicle, striding toward the open door Moose had emerged from. She peered inside. Primo was bandaged across his body, his pants cut short, and his leg wrapped in a bandage. But what drew her attention was the bag of blood hanging from a handle connected to his arm.
"He seemed better than moments ago," she commented in satisfaction. "Good job."
"Good thing I always bring a spare blood bag," Moose remarked. "And it's lucky he has the same blood type as me. Otherwise, it would've been troublesome."
"For sure." Heaven nodded, still focused on Primo. "Are you okay?"
