TC 181-8 sketch (Patreon)

N: no, we wait till Deacon gets here, he’s our medic.

T: Neekia, please. Trust me.

N looks to sky then looks at cyras who’s pale and covered in blood.

N: shit. Fine. But im watching you.

T: I can’t get to the wound, I need to remove his shirt. (n hands knife) thanks