When the sheriff arrived in triage with a bullet in his shoulder, Melissa would have been right on it; after all, the two of them were close friends, even if they had only met because their boys were friends. Despite the circumstances, however, Noah seemed to be not in that much pain and much more worried about the events that had transpired.
"Noah, you need to let me clean this a bit." She insisted as he tried to get up again, being more stubborn then his own son would be if the situations had been reversed.
"I will, but I want you to make sure Stiles is okay first. Let someone else patch me up until my surgery tomorrow if you need to."
"Did Stiles get shot too?" Her stomach dropped, trying to rack her brain to see if she could remember that being brought up when Noah was brought in.
"No, but he worries too much even when I'm not hurt."
Melissa sighed and took off her gloves, allowing another nurse to step in so she could make her way to the waiting room; Noah was right, Stiles worried about his father all of the time even when he was completely well and he had just been shot in front of him. Sure enough, Stiles was sitting in one of the chairs with his own father's blood still soaking his hands.
"Is my dad okay?" He asked, immediately looking up at her.
"He's conscious and not in that much pain. But he's gonna need surgery in the morning to get the bullet out."
"I want to see him." Stiles started to get up, but she gently pushed down on his shoulder to make sure he was sitting again.
"He's still being processed," she started before looking down at his hands, "and you need to clean up."
"But he's gonna be okay? Like, he'll be fine after the surgery?"
"He'll be in a sling for a couple weeks, but he'll be just fine," Melissa assured before letting him stand, "let's get you cleaned up."