It was a man of average height, maybe a little smaller, but that was hard to evaluate with him lying on the floor. He was well-trained, a broad back, packed with thick muscles, his hair cut military-style. She shuffled forward and reached out, intending to wipe his face a little with her sleeve when his eyes suddenly flutteres open and he started mumbling something in a breathy rasp.

[i]He's alive![/i] she realized with surprise and sat back staring at him. He might have been bitten somewhere, but she didn't know how fast the change took place and... she stopped herself from musing instead, trying to evaluate his injuries, to make sure he wouldn't run on her. "W-Who are you?" she heard him rasp and her eyes snapped back to his face as he sat up on his elbows. She wanted to reach out and push him back down, tell him stay still while she had a look but the next second he scrambled backwards, away from her and raised a bade to her head. She froze. He cried out in pain, dropping the blade and stumbling to his knees in front of her upon trying to get into a standing position with a grunt. "Where am I?" he croaked and his voice startled her out of her state.

Making sure he could see it she threw the gun to the side, letting it loudly slide over the rough floor to a distance where she couldn't simply grab for it again. Then her hands reached out for him, not touching yet. "Stay down. You're injured. I won't do anything, sorry to have startled you. So please, lie back down." she talked to him in a calm, low voice, her eyes flicking from his to his hand that had come up bloody from the back of his head.

She pulled off her backpack, and jacket, throwing the latter on the floor beside her to roll back her sleeves. Her latex-glove clad hands opened her backpack, pulling out the medical supplies she had just used on herself some hours ago. All the while she kept a slow pace, not wanting to cause him to startle again and get even worse. He righted her glasses, pushing them a little upwards, not thinking much about the habitual gesture. "My name is Takiko," she told him as she put on a pair of clean gloves overneath her own. "We're in a basement of a house in the outer suburbs of Chicago." Her brain was working hard, trying to recall what she had been told about head-injuries but she had to see it first to do something and, as hurt as he was, she could not be sure he wouldn't have another one of those outbursts of energy if she touched him.