[ A doctor. He looks up again, focused, bloodshot eyes searching the man's calm face. He badly needs a doctor, he needs... he needs air, he needs his legs to stop feeling so weak.

His chest works, a little too rapidly, trying to catch a breath that doesn't want to stay caught. ]

Maybe if I'm lucky, the next place I end up won't dump me directly into a fight, then.

What— what kind of doctor are you?