"Forget it," she told Don, shaking her head a little. They had bigger things to worry about. The logic reigning in her brain was screaming that Eliot wasn't going to make it from this; he was probably in shock already, and she doubted that could ever get better. All they could do was make it easier on him.

While one hand pressed her already soaked shirt to the wound, her other hand moved to find his, giving it a squeeze. She might not have been the most touchy-feely person in the world, but Ariadne could comfort in a pinch.

"Come on. Try."