ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ.

[puppydoctor]

[It's just after dawn on Friday morning, and the video feed clicks on to a young man in torn, bloody clothing, crouched down over an injured baby deer. From where the communicator rests in the grass, early morning De Chima traffic is visible behind him.]

Look, you have to go back in the- No, no, not that way-

[He's trying to urge the deer back towards the woods, but it just wants to come with him. Though its injuries seem extensive, it isn't in any apparent pain, frolicking around his legs in the high grass.]

I can't take you home, kiddo. I don't even have a home, yet. Just- Stop that!

[If it weren't all for the blood, this would be one of the cutest things to ever happen.]

Comments

[puppydoctor]

Feels like I left yesterday, but Sarah said it had been six months.

[The deer tries to nose its way into the lens, and George moves the camera.]

How've you been?

[illuminescent]

Far too busy, I'm afraid.

[puppydoctor]

Yeah? With the clinic, still?

[illuminescent]

Ah, and ambassadorship.

[puppydoctor]

Oh, right!

[He'd forgotten, what with all the going-back-home-to-the-oblivion-of-death thing.]

How's that been going?