Finn peered around the edge of the door cautiously, making sure nothing drastic was going on. He was debating whether or not to go back in or to stay here, and had decided that a look would be the best way to decide.
One glance into the room told him that going back would be a bad idea, so he closed the door and hid behind the doorframe.
No way am I going back in that madhouse, no-one in their right minds would. Unless they had a death wish, which I do not.
Finn huffed, feeling confused, tired and sore. His wrist hurt, the burns sending bolts of pain up his arm every time he moved it. Finn gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore it, not wanting to think about the nasty incident that had earned him the injury in the first place.
He looked at the door through which the nurse had taken the woman, Sarah, the other man had called her.
So he'd saved her life, but now he was at a complete loose end as to what to do next. Another bolt of pain from his wrist snapped him out of his reverie. Dammit. Picking up a heavy woman had not done it any good, and now it was paining him more than ever before.
Note to self: Heroism is a bad idea when injured.
Come to think of it, heroism is a bad idea altogether.