This freakout was the second most amusing thing that had happened this month, although of course, this scenario lost to the entire Rosebloods dilemma. Nothing could top the sheer amount of hilarity the interaction provided, and when reflecting in hindsight, Beck laughed until his broken ribs splintered even further. After all, what else could be done besides laugh?

    Seeing as restless spirits naturally were forbidden from sleep, Beck resigned to continuing his daily work into the midnight hours. By the time Crow zipped past his blurred vision, he was focused on fashioning guppy-shaped beads from the bones of a catfish with his trusted dagger, stringing the finished beads in a strand with hollowed shells and sea glass spacing them apart. While the silver tabby sprinting past him with his tail tucked between scurrying legs threatened to release a fit of giggles from the poltergeist, the trail of blood in his wake turned his snickering into an exasperated sigh, and he begrudgingly set down his project to address the situation. That was a medic's responsibility after all.

    Beck took his time limping after the raving feline, partially because his fractured ankle decided to wobble and buckle under more pressure than a clumsy trot, and because he could already see the distorted silhouette of Kiira approaching with the so-claimed "princess" in tow. Flopping back onto his haunches a distance away from Perpetualpaw considering Kiira managed to blip onto the Crow's rooftop, the boy scratched his notched ear with a hind foot and croaked up to his fellow medic, "Think he's got a bro-oken, broken nose?" From his viewpoint, nearsighted eyes failed to discern any visible bruising on Crow's snout, but judging by the amount of blood present, it was possible. The dark-furred cat scowled inwardly to himself, recalling the sharp crack of cartilage as an older urchin's elbow rammed into his face. All over a crust of bread, if he remembered correctly. It hurt like hell, he was sure of that. The crooked nosed kid soon became his label, albeit not for long when other scars began to accumulate. The tip of his muzzle still slightly jutted sideways to this day -- violently shaking his head to refocus, Beck wheezed to Crow, "If you're st-till bleedin', pinch your nose 'n' lean forward." Was he even lucid? Judging by the reek of alcohol in the air, he doubted Crow could understand him. Oh well, at least he tried, right?

//OOC

There wasn’t much he was doing at that particular moment. Some thoughts here, a few scribbled ideas there. Eyes focused on a flickering candlelight that illuminated his desk in a warm orange light. When a loud crash echoed throughout the town, the dragon merely glanced up from the open notebook before him. Faint and garbled voices began to collect in the air. A big commotion. Ska’arq ties the notebook and pencil to his wrist, exiting his home and locking the door behind him while searching out the source of the noise.

There were figures on the roof and several more clustered near the front door. The faintest hint of blood reached his nose. Feet carried him to the scene, cyan stare sweeping around. There was only one individual he recognized- that interesting ex-leader ghost, Beck. Seemingly finished taking in the situation without a word, Ska’arq lifted his gaze to the panicking and collapsed cat on the roof. All of this caused by a bloody nose? The notebook was retrieved, and he sat down, poised to write down whatever happened next.

    Yeesh, and he thought his episodes were bad. Or, maybe they were worse... whatever, he didn't remember them anyway. What did matter was calming down a hysteric Crow, however impossible the feat seemed. That was more Kiira's department in all honesty -- he was better with handling injuries, not the patients themselves -- but nevertheless, Beck rolled bony shoulders back with an audible pop and merely observed the silvery tabby for a moment to identify how exacty to approach the situation. He wasn't lucid, clearly, and seemed deadset that an unknown threat sought after his hide.

    A grim line warping his disfigured snout, Beck sucked in a shallow breath and croaked up to the other, "They'll be able to fi-ind ya more eas-easily if you're up th-there. Why dont'cha climb down 'n' we'll clea-an the blood off of ya so they can't smell ya no more? Can, can ya do that for me, Crow?" He didn't believe the nonsense spewed out from the older feline's drunken mouth, but as long as he could get the hallucinating chaser to comply, it didn't matter. Were his words convincing enough? The boy sank teeth into his remaining cheek, eyes distractedly darting to the new presences behind him before he violently shook his entire apparition and refocused himself. For good measure, Beck added on a cheesy line he didn't want to sweat oath to with a slight huff of desperation, "We'll protect ya if they come, o-okay?"