If there's one thing that seems to happen a lot in this place, it's mistakes. Dealing with lack of technology can be as bad as dealing with advance things you've never seen before. There's always those looking at sweet and innocent seeming creatures that look so familiar as to be practically pets, and then paying the price for it in blood and pain... and sometimes hormones which Ashley knows about and is not repeating if she can avoid it. Hell, she's surprised one of the guys running around here hasn't managed to do himself in with a straight razor and a need to look like a layout in GQ. Not that she's complaining about the latter.

Nor is the guy she's just kind of wandered on looking like he's going to grace the cover a magazine any time soon.

Well shit. Much as everyone talks about things here being not so bad if you're careful, finding a guy looking like he's been poisoned within what passes for city limits isn't comforting. Reaching for her hip is standard, so is the cursing that comes with the reminder that there's nothing there attached to the jeans she's commandeered for herself along with a black tee.

Dropping to one knee beside the guy, her gaze sweeping the area before reaching for his hands as he pulls off the tee.

"Hey. What's going? What did you take?" It sounds too familiar, thinking about victims of drugs and realizing that isn't likely what's happened here. "Did you touch something? Ingest it?" If she needs to make him throw up, well that's what needs to be done then.