He is attracted by the sound of the bell, not too far from the railroad when he draws himself closer, like a spider crawling towards trapped prey. This was new. He doesn't expect the irritated expression upon the foreigner's face, the other's distaste for the sound of the bell. Usually it is the pirates who grow vexed by the repetitive noise, the metal shrills that rattle and clang. He should have expected the result of ringing the bell, expect it to be loud because otherwise it would have no use, no reason for existing. If it were quiet, it would be as useless as some of the crewmates who occupied the island. "Be more specific with what you mean by help," the young Quartermaster rumbles when he approaches, using his earth elementals to stop the swinging motion of the metal bell. It halts and hangs perfectly still, the male raising a figurative brow as if waiting for the gush of the wind to dare try and move it. "And no, I don't give two shits what your name is but someone probably will." Sometimes Bakugou thinks they are simply too hospitable, too compassionate for the lives of other strangers. The ragdoll, however, sees little point in knowing the personal details of others. Unless they are here to stay for months and months to come, acting as an ally over a nuisance, he doesn't have a reason to know another's name as if they were comrades. If the male was simply here with a request, it was a waste of his time to bother exerting the energy to getting to know him. He was simply another face to deal with.

As he waits for the other to speak up, he can't help with notice the prosthetic leg over the heterochromic eyes. Mismatched optics don't surprise him anymore. He has seen a number of faces come, go and stay who happen to have a gaze consisting of two different hues. Metal limbs, however, is something he has only noticed on one of those merchants in Sunhaven. They only make him wince at the idea of metal attached to bone, moving in synchronization with the body through some kind of scientific breakthrough. He doesn't understand how they can even work and he realises that, if he really wants to be a dick, he can probably control the prosthetic leg. For added pettiness, if the guy pisses him off he can use his earth elementals to raise the metal leg and punch themself. 'Stop hitting yourself' will become an amusing reality for the ragdoll.

Pip never thought of anything relating to knowing or helping people as a waste of time. It didn't matter whether the people chose to stay in The Typhoon, or if they even stayed for long- to only care insofar as membership was concerned created a very divisive barrier he didn't want to be apart of. Maybe he did care too much. That wasn't really up for debate, but he thought if everyone just cared a bit more than they did about each other, if they made an effort to understand rather than oppose, fewer people would walk through scarred from awful encounters. However, while he wasn't doubting they were capable of reaching compromises, he wasn't so naive as to think it was in the near future, or that it would last. In living here, he'd become very aware of the many facets and sides of people. Aggression and cruelty matched by kindness and charity, though maybe not so often as he would like.

But he had also learned he was no one to try and change that. He could only do his best, and he wished- he wished that would be enough, one day.

For now, he was dissatisfied with himself, gathering more plantain leaves to tuck into the first-aid pouches he was still working on. The sound of the bell -which had never agitated him, maybe because he knew it was ridiculous to hate something inanimate- distracted him from his work, and he set aside what he'd taken to investigate. He arrived to see Bakugou and another already there with the stranger, who had clear discomfort with his mechanical leg. Pip assumed it was the nature of the attachment. It didn't seem that they had used a cap on the limb as the connecting piece- instead, whoever did it had merely attached the limb directly, and Pip barely managed to suppress the wince. The poor skin was likely agitated and raw, and who knew how soon after the loss that it was installed?

"If it is your leg, I can do what I can for the skin. I have a friend who-" No. Garrett was gone. He'd left. "Ah. I'm certain we'll find someone who can look at the mechanical aspect."

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He smiled -albeit wan and thin- before stepping closer to the other boy so he wouldn't have to walk as far on that leg. Now that the distance was less than it had been, he could see more, and he liked it even less, a crease forming between mismatched eyes. He did not blame him for his unpleasant demeanor- he would not be very sociable after walking on that, although it was entirely likely he was already...cantankerous, and the pain worsened it. It wasn't as though The Typhoon lacked room for more people with barbed tongues. "It's all right to do it here," he said after a moment, when he realized Chardonnay hadn't risen just to meet him halfway, expecting to walk farther elsewhere. Not if Pip could help it. "But yes, that would be appreciated. Do you know what treatment you received afterward?" Pip did not want to rub certain ointments into the skin until he knew the cause and, accordingly, what would match best with the type of wound.
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His ear twitches. "We ain't a fuckin' hospital," he hisses. He hates it when foreigners stroll up to The Typhoon expecting to be healed for free. They weren't a charity and he would rather they just turned away those who weren't looking to join, those who were dead weight to begin with. His maw parts in irritation, black smoke swelling into the atmosphere when his eyes catch onto Peppino. He had initially been impressed by Pincher's son but now the sage merely annoys him. Too compassionate, too kind for strangers who have done nothing to deserve it. Heck, he doesn't even expect the boy to try and heal him if he is injured. At least he isn't some loud teen who thinks he is entitled to being saved by The Typhoon, glaring daggers towards the male. "That's why I replied with 'and no', dumbass. If you're going to have the audacity to be obnoxious, then don't cry and scream when I rip that metal leg of yours and use it to stab that warmed heart of yours."

Bakugou snarls when he looks at Peppino working away, ear twitching in irritation. "You're the only sage we have left and you're wasting your resources on a piece of shit who came ringing the bell thinking he's entitled to seek medical care. I had really thought more of you, Pipsqueak."

Yellow ointment. There were plenty of those out there, even more that smelled weird, but yellow ointments tended to work as antibacterial agents- it made sense, if it was applied afterward, although Pip found...issue with that choice, because there was the possibility that the ointment had slowed the healing rather than assisted. With beginning wounds, thicker products were typically used further down the line; thinner, more gel-like water-based creams were better in the beginning to help the white blood cells, and the canine frowned thinking about it. There probably wouldn't be an issue using the skin creams he had in mind, but he wished there was some way of removing the leg without causing more damage. Whoever helped Chardonnay should have waited months at the very least before attaching a limb. "Is it possible to keep weight off of your leg? I could possibly find something to keep it off the ground." A bit difficult given its awkward proportions, but Pip thought he could manage.

That was supposed to be fortunate. This situation was...less so, the bickering grating, but he knew he should be used to it by now. He wasn't certain if he'd been to a joining yet without some kind of snipping, though- it had never been directed at him, and the mix's shoulders stiffened, mouth a thin line. He did not turn away from Chardonnay to glance at Bakugou, and when he spoke, it was quiet, almost impossibly soft. "As sage, this is my choice. I know what resources I have better than you do, Quartermaster, so if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend." Still without even looking in Bakugou's direction, he gave a slight gesture with his head in the direction of the jungle temple. "Please, follow me. I will try to walk the smoother path- I do not want to worsen your leg."

He turned away and began walking slowly, body rigid and gaze dulled.
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