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(OOC: I'm back!)
Bridget started to shake, she barely believed what just happened. "Are you alright? Oh what a stupid question!" She asked Cera, and tears started to roll down her face, and heavy sobs racked her lungs. "We could've died. Now what are we going to do? We have no car, Cera needs a doctor." She started to hyperventilate and her face was pale. "Oh God, oh God," She turned towards the store, "George! George! Help!" She screamed and continued sobbing.

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Se blâment, vous dupent, pour toi a cassé mon coeur ainsi beaucoup de fois que je ne peux pas trouver les morceaux.

Blanche stared off to where the car had sped off to, her hand on Cera's ankle and pulled back to see the thick red liquid drip right off. She stood up and ran straight into the stoor.

"George! Cera, She was shot!" She screamed out, showing the blood as evidence. The fear and terror mounting in her eyes.

"Please, call 911!"

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[I am active in several role-plays at the moment and have room under my belt for plenty more. I enjoy any type and can create a character for many of them. Need something to keep my imagination in check, Heh.]

(OCC: Welcome back)
George couldn't believe what he had heard. "Oh my god! Sir, please dial 911!"

The man at the register did as he was told, quikcly dialing the number on an old rotary phone.

George rushed outside and kneeled beside Cela. "I'm so sorry! If I had been there, I could have done something about it!" George ripped off the sleeves on his suit, making quick bandages out of fierce concern for the shot woman. "I'm such a moron! Why couldn't I have been there!?"

Bridget continued to sob but put pressure on Cera's ankles to try and limit the blood loss. "George, George," She sobbed, she looked up at Cera with tear filled green eyes. It looked as if an island were drowning.

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Se blâment, vous dupent, pour toi a cassé mon coeur ainsi beaucoup de fois que je ne peux pas trouver les morceaux.

George wrapped his quickly-made bandages around Cera's wounds as Bridget placed pressure on the shotten areas.

Now, George was the one who was sobbing. George hugged Bridget, trying to find answers as the tears continued to go down his cheeks. "Bridget, why am I such a fool?! Why wasn't I able to do anything?"

Blanche had tore the whole store apart looking for more bandages. She quickly rushed out to them, the blood dried and caked on her hands. It left a sickening image in her head but she had no time. She knelt down and wrapped the bandages tightly so pressure was no longer needed to be applied.

"You'll be fine." She said, her voice croaking with sorrow but she tried to collect herself and stick it out til the end.

"It is not your fault, George."

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[I am active in several role-plays at the moment and have room under my belt for plenty more. I enjoy any type and can create a character for many of them. Need something to keep my imagination in check, Heh.]

Bridget threw her arms around George and sobbed, just wanting to be held, "What'll happen to Cera George? How will we be able to afford for her to get her ankles fixed?" She buried her face into George's shoulder.

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Se blâment, vous dupent, pour toi a cassé mon coeur ainsi beaucoup de fois que je ne peux pas trouver les morceaux.

"It is not your fault, George."

George looked at Blanche, his face giving her thanks without any words.

George helf Bridget tight. She wanted to be held, and George wanted someone to hold. For him, there was comfort in being in the arms of this woman.

"I have a small amount of money that could pay for it...but if it's not enough, we'll just have to ditch without paying. We'll just have to act like we have money, I guess. It's sad, but it's all we can do in these terrible times," he said in tears as he continued to hold the french woman.

"Dieu nous aident, Dieu nous aident. Grêlent Mary complètement de grace… George, George, je suis effrayé." Bridget held him tighter, and put her head against his chest, her long hair fell, blocking her face and absorbing a few of her tears. Tears slid down her face and she ignored the bitter salty taste as they touched her lips.

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Se blâment, vous dupent, pour toi a cassé mon coeur ainsi beaucoup de fois que je ne peux pas trouver les morceaux.

George was holding Bridget tighter than before now, needing the extra comfort. One of his hands was now rested on Bridget's head as he continued to hold her.

"Bridget...what does that mean? I don't understand a bit of French." George's tears continued their path down his cheeks. In his mind, George had a small desire to rest his face on Bridget's soft skin.