Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"Are you kidding me? He did that on purpose?" Ilsa Pucci was bleeding, in pain and slightly in shock, but all of that not too seriously to stop her from being indignant.
"It's a tactical maneuver called an Aunt Suzie, Mrs. Pucci… ", Winston tried to calm the waves.
"I don't care what it's called. He SHOT me, for heaven's sake!"
Chance climbed into the van, wiping sweat and soot from his forehead. "She alright?"
"Well done, dude." Guerrero handed him a cloth and water to rinse his eyes. "Bullet went right through, no major blood vessels damaged."
"Excuse me? Well done?"
"We could patch her up at the office", Guerrero continued, ignoring Ilsa.
"I insist on seeing a doctor!"
Shrugging, Guerrero finally acknowledged her presence. "You're the boss, boss."
… … …
"This is unbelievable! Simply unbelievable!"
"What? You wanted to see a doctor." Chance was quite glad they were there, to be honest. His eyes were still stinging, not a good sign. Better have a professional take a look.
"Bullet wounds are subject to registration, boss. You wanted to explain that to the Foundation's board?"
At the mere idea Ilsa turned even paler than she already was.
"So we had to take you to one of our medical contacts", Guerrero continued. "You not cool with that?"
"I swear, Mrs. Pucci, I didn't..." Winston was strongly suspecting that inwardly, Guerrero was laughing his ass off.
Just then the doctor walked in. "Sorry for keeping you waiting, but there was this Dachshund with life-threatening constipation, needed to take care of that first."