Tempest had never seen Dron look at Gerax with so much hatred before.
Not even when Gerax had stuck needles in him, prodded at his markings, or made comments that Dron clearly wanted to strangle him for. This was different. There wasn't annoyance in his expression. There wasn't even anger.
There was a promise.
If Gerax came anywhere near Tempest with a needle, Dron was going to kill him.
Gerax apparently understood the same thing because he'd put several feet between himself and Dron while he and Aliq went through the supplies they'd managed to bring onto the ship.
"We don't need much," Gerax said.
"You need nothing," Dron immediately corrected.
Tempest sighed.
Aliq looked between them before wisely deciding to continue digging through one of the boxes.
"We have collection bags," Gerax continued as if Dron hadn't spoken. "Not many, but enough to begin. Needles. Tubing. Containers. We have everything we would normally use if someone lost too much blood."
