Round 173 Transcript

As Silra stands to pull Jeane into the shed, the creaking of the dock's metal frame intensifies, threatening to collapse further. The sound of sirens grows louder, and emergency responders begin to arrive on the scene. A rescue boat, its lights flashing, edges closer to the dock. Silra swiftly pulls Jeane inside, using her body to shield her from view as she locks the shed door behind them. The interior is cramped and dimly lit, with dusty tools and maintenance equipment scattered about. A small propane heater sits in the corner, emitting a warm, comforting glow. Jeane's shield magic flickers erratically, struggling to maintain its connection as her hypothermic state worsens. Silra gently turns her toward the heater, helping her sit down beside it. "You need to get your core temperature up, now," Silra says, her voice urgent. The heater's warmth begins to seep into Jeane's chilled bones, but she remains shivering uncontrollably, her teeth still chattering wildly. The sound of the rescue boat's engines grows louder, and Silra's eyes dart toward the door, her gaze locked on the latch as if willing it to remain secure.

Jeane collapses onto the floor of the shed next to the propane heater, her entire body shaking uncontrollably as she finally lets go of the shield magic. F-fuck—fuck this is c-cold, she chitters through clenched teeth. I can't feel m-my f-fingers or t-toes anymore. She stares at her hands—they look blue in the dim light. How long do y-you think until they s-start to b-blacken?

I crouch next to Jeane by the heater, pulling out a small toolkit from my pack—multitool with heat source capability. "Your fingers aren't going to blacken if we do this right," I say, voice clinical as I activate the heating element and hold it near her hands. "You're shivering from hypothermia but you haven't lost core body temperature yet. That means your circulatory system is still functional." I don't mention how close she came—no point in panicking her further. "Keep your hands as close to the heat source as you can tolerate without burning yourself," I instruct, my technical side taking over despite the absurdity of our situation.* "The warmth needs to reach your core organs, not just your extremities."

The sound of voices outside grows louder—probably dock security or emergency workers searching the area after the collapse. I move to the shed door, pressing my ear against it while keeping an eye on Jeane. If they start checking every structure around here we're fucked, I think. Two fugitives huddled next to a heater in a locked maintenance shed is pretty damn suspicious.*

"Can you stand if you need to?" I ask Jeane without turning around. "Because if those voices come any closer, we might need to move fast."