The scowl darkened on Luke's face. It was enough that there were more than two survivors, but there was now a girl - seriously? A little, whiny kid in the group was the last thing they all needed, especially one with those freaky gloves. This is gonna be just great, he thought angrily, shooting a glare at the girl. As he was jerking his head back to face the others, he caught a glimpse of a shiny tear forming in the corner of the kid's eye. Oh great - she was going to cry now? Frustration overwhelmed him, balling up into a tight knot that strapped his stomach tight and sent him into a worse mood. Maybe it's best if we split up into groups, he mused, glancing at the faces of the survivors and avoiding the little girl. Too many people. Way too many.
Luke heard people introducing themselves, but he didn't bother to offer his name. It was enough that two people already knew how to identify him, and he didn't want any more to know. If they wanted to call him, they'd have to find some other way to catch his attention without using his name.
Impatience slapped at him, and he raised his voice, breaking the conversations and shattering them as he growled, "Okay, enough chit-chat. In case you haven't noticed, some of us are almost bleeding to death here. We need to find a first-aid kit or something, not talk up crap." Without waiting for the others, he stormed off towards a pile of nearby debris, rummaging through it before pulling out a half-used roll of bandages. Well, it was better than nothing. He yanked off enough for his arm and shoved the roll into Scarlette's hands, seeing that she looked like she needed it the most.