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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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Kizi placed her first aid kit on a nearby table, and began pulling out the various items. God help her, she had no idea what to do. None whatsoever. She knew next to nothing about first aid. She had barely even picked up any oversimplified myths from TV, having rarely watched the sorts of shows where accidents and traumas happened. She knew next to nothing about why some of the stuff was here. She understood aspirin and bandages (why so many types?), but tweezers? Lighters? Alcohol pads? Was that for alcoholics going through withdrawal or something?

She grabbed at the non-adhesive bandages, but her grip was clumsy, shaking from undernourishment and fatigue and a heap of fear, and soon, the bandages had unrolled, a tangled mess in her hands. Biting her tongue, she felt frustration rising up. At her own failure, predominantly. She furrowed her brow, stifled a scowl, and began untangling the mess. "Bandages coming up."

She picked up the saline solution, opened the bottle, and let a little stream of the solution trickle onto the length of the bandage. "You put saline solution on it, right?" She should have asked that before.

God, she was useless.
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