#pokemon garbodor

(Coin flip: Heads. success)

Emmet breathed a sigh of relief as he opened up the storage to find the familiar red package there. Pulling the kit out, he limped back to a bench, plopped down (a little too roughly as his side twinged) and opened up the kit.

(Coin flip: Tails. failure)

Emmet groaned. The first aid was not as fully stocked as it could have been. Inside were a few packets of bandaids, some disinfectent, one roll of bandages, some cotten balls, a verrrry small pair of scissors, a single small cool pack, and a small flashlight.

It wasn't exactly an audinos heal pulse, or a chansey's egg, but it would have to do for now. When all this was over Emmet was going to have a verrry stern discussion with whoever was the last one assigned to restocking the first aid kits.

Emmet slid his jacket of hiss shoulders and began to unbutton his shirt. Garbodor was moaning softly again, but thankfully seemed to restrain itself from giving off any kind of stench. Good. Emmet wasn't certain he could deal with that right now.

He opened his shirt to see that his side was red from the force of the impact. Carfully he fingered his side, trying to inspect the damage. He was satisfied to find that none of his ribs were broken, but the injury was bound to develop some very painful bruising in a couple days.

Looking down at the meager offering of aid, Emmet knew he was going to have to do his best.

(Coin flip: Tails, failure)

Pressing the cooling pack to his side, Emmet was dismayed to find that it only fit a small portion of the injury. But without any other options, he had no choice but to make use of it as much as he could. He looked down at the single roll of bandages sitting in the kit. It was far from new and clearly only had a little bandage left on it.

All the same he wrapped as much as he could around his torso to keep the cooling pack in place. He only got two revolutions around his own torso before he ran out. And as a naturally skinny man that did not say much for the amount of bandage he'd been given to work with.

Just as he began pulling his jacket over his unbuttoned shirt the lights of the car gave one last crackling flicker before turning blinking off permanent.

"Great." Emmet sighed. "Juuuust great."

At least he had the small flashlight.

Taking it out, he closed up the rest of the first aid kit and, with the bag still in his hand and the flashlight in his teeth, struggled back up to his feet.

"Cwome on Gwobwordwor." Emmet said through his teeth, "Ith ish twime to dwishebwark."

Garbodor looked at him uncomprehendingly, clearly not being able to understand it's trainers garbled speech and Emmet just sighed and gestured at the doors.