Devero freezes with his hands splayed on the counter, staring into the back of one of the cabinets like it hadn't even occurred to him that the medical conveniences he took for granted wouldn't be present. But they wouldn't, would they? If this virus-riddled excuse for a transport didn't even have a proper net, why would it bother with civilized medicine?

His fingers dig against the countertop as he struggles to wrest down the surge of anxiety and straight fear that inspires in him. Now is not the time, not with Koumyou needing his head clear so he can render first aid.

"Fine," he says-- through gritted teeth, but he says it. "That's fine. We'll make do." And he starts to go through the cabinets again this time, actually looking at what's there instead of what he wants to be there.