"Yes I've done this before," he said as he lifted his arm and showed a scar running half the length of his forearm. "Had a little run in with a sword wielding Taliban, in Afghanistan. Me and my team was pinned down so I had to stitch it myself one handed. You won't have a scare nearly this cool though," he teased gently. "I was in the Army for a few years and had lots of different training. As long as everyone keeps their heads cool we'll be ok."

He paused and listened to Yvette as he worked to clean the wound, ”I’m… not brave,” she said humbly.

"There is a difference between being afraid and being brave. I can understand your scared and afraid, you're injured after a plane crash and we have no idea where we are. Now the choice you have to make is whether you focus on those fears or take a deep breath and face those fears and then move beyond them. In your case I would worry about drinking those little bottles, let Jon and I take care of you. The simplest way to deal with this is to take one step at a time first you get better, then we'll figure out what your next step is. For me once we get you stitched up, I'm going to try to get a makeshift shelter built for you and the other injured. Now please be Brave for me and drink your alcohol, and I'll be right here to take care of you."

Mike squeezed her hand reassuringly before calling for Jon, "Hey Jon, I've got Yvette's wound clean, and I'm ready when you are sir."

Jon quietly and shakily went about cleaning the wound on Paisley's shoulder- he had began to feel more uncomfortable about the situation, but figured there was nothing he could do about it, he also realized he must have been taking forever when Mike called him over. He quickly dressed the wound.

"We'll, uh, I'll try and figure out your leg issue once I fix Yvette's hip up." He said, getting up and walking over to Mike, and looking at Yvette's leg."This may hurt a bit, but hang on, okay?" He said in a shaky yet reassuring voice. "I'll just do this quickly, and then we'll get you cleaned up." He thought for a few seconds, getting sucked into his head about how much it would hurt- and had she been given any type of painkiller? He looked over at the bottles of alcohol. He wasn't sure about how much good that would do, and he turned back to the wound. He began to gently and slowly remove the bit of metal, biting his lip. Once he managed to get it out, he cleaned the wound. "Now, that was the hard part of it, okay? The stiches will be easy compared to that." He soothed her as he finished cleaning it out.

Yvette’s eyes appeared a little alarmed when Mike showed her his scar, eyes wide and taking in everything he said about his time in the army. She smiled a bit and nodded, feeling better. Partially because of the drinks and partially because his experience had reassured her. ”Scars don’t bother me,” she said quietly when he said hers wouldn’t be nearly as cool. Her eyes flickered for a moment, some painful memories flashing in them for a brief moment before she shook her head and looked back to Mike. He said he and Jon would take care of her and she blushed abit, nodding. ”I understand. I just wish I wasn’t injured at all so I could help,” she said softly, squeezing the hand in return before Jon came over.

She saw the look in Jon’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. He seemed stressed. Of course, who wouldn’t be. Well, then again she wasn’t. At least not anymore. She felt pretty good actually and smiled when he said it would hurt when his hand hovered over her hip. ”Okie dokie,” she said cutely until he slowly began pulling the metal from her body. She gasped in pain and tried to curl up but shivered as Jon got it out and blood began seeping once more from the hole. ”That really hurt,” she pouted, getting off her elbows and laying back on her back. ”Fiiiiine,” she said with a sigh, like she was bored when Jon said stitches would be easy. She was still pouting, not liking this situation. This pain. Though she supposed things could be worse. She did feel rather upbeat for no good reason thanks to the tiny, empty bottles at her side.

As Gordon searched for supplies his cheek was pounding so hard, it felt as if someone was punching him nonstop, but he didn't mind it. He dragged a plastic bag along with him while scavenging. It had a dozen of peanut snacks and a few small water bottles in it. He thought about checking the pilots chamber. He grabbed the plastic bag and head towards the door. He reached for it with his right hand and tried to open it "Locked. Figured so." He took two steps back and dropped the plastic bag. He kicked the door with all power he got. The door swung open, "Am too old for this shit" he said while breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath, he took a deep breath and went in.

One of the pilots was laying dead away from his seat, while the other seemed okay to Gordon. There was blood on his neck but no wounds or cuts that Gordon could see. "Sir are you okay?...sir?" The pilot didn't answer back. Gordon looked at the other pilot and sighed, he hoped that the other pilot isn't dead just unconscious. He took his attention back at the other pilot and walked towards him, when he was half way through he reached for his shoulder, when he reached him Gordon leaned forward to see that the pilot was dead. His face was distorted with small glass shards from the windshield, his left arm was nearly disconnected from his body by a big metal shard.

Gordon sighed heavily while he went out of the chamber, he grabbed the plastic bag on the way out. He kicked a small bottle when he nearly exited the plane, it was a painkiller, he grabbed it and smiled in satisfaction. He threw it in the bag and went out of the plane. When he reached Presley he took out a hand full of snacks and a water bottle and lay them beside her. "How us your leg now? Am going to go and see the others, they're probably hungry." .

Jack began to cary back the supplies that he had found laying around the island. A gray tarp, lots of fallen branches for fire wood. Though he wanted to venture into the jungle look for more, he did want to leave the group behind and let them worry about him.
Jack was still angered by Gordons thoughts on survival, he thought burying the dead was needed, it what was in the past was in the past, and he had to move on. He finally returned to the plane, through the trap away from him, placed the fire wood on the ground and began to try to make a fire for warmth and light, it would get dark soon anyway.

Presley's wound was managed by Jon. She didn't like the idea of someone dealing with her problems, but she knew she needed this and she's more than thankful. Someone called Jon when he's done. "We'll, uh, I'll try and figure out your leg issue once I fix Yvette's hip up." He said as presley nodded thanking him sincerely. Yvette. That's her name, Presley noted. She buttoned up her blouse and pushed her hair back. "Now legs, what's up with you." She said quietly, looking at her bare shins. She sighed deeply knowing there's nothing to do now. She takes one more look around, the plane wreckage, the sea, the shore, everyone else and then at her hands. Maybe a nap will pass the time, presley thought hopefully. She was just about to lay down when she saw Gordon coming somewhere out of the plane, he walked towards her and laid some snacks beside her, she smiled gratefully at him, "how is your leg now?" He asked presley. Nothing really changed about her legs, but she nodded once and said "it's not bothering me at all, I shall be fine, thanks, sir."
She took the water bottle,
"Am going to go and see the others, they're probably hungry." Gordon said before walking away. Presley drank her water, relived as the liquid cooled her sore throat.

Jon laughed, taking out the needle and thread, noticing the fact that Yvette was drunk. He looked back to the wound in her leg, and tried to begin to stitch, but ended up just jabbing her in the leg. "Sorry." He mumbled, and tried again, but his hands were shaking like crazy and he couldn't seem to do it, and began to get flustered. He took a few deep breaths, and then tried again, managing to do it correctly, and then wrapped it up in gauze,"I am so sorry about that." He told her softly.

Yvette frowned and looked back to Jon when he said sorry, trying to crane her neck to see what he was doing but without lifting her back off the ground. "Wait, what are you doing again?" she asked. Her eyes barely caught a glimpse of him starting to stitch her up and she groaned, closing her eyes and looking away. "This sucks, British man," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. When he apologized softly again, she nodded, peeking one eye open to see the wound just wrapped in gauze now. There was a pressure at the spot, but it didn't hurt so bad. "I need new pants," she said matter of factly, noticing where the other guy, what was his name again? Mark, no Mike. Mike had ripped them. And with that she settled down and closed her eyes again, seemingly content.