He's going into shock, Steve thinks, feeling that trembling, and for a second he's a little panicked himself. He's done battlefield triage, but only for grown men. The responsible thing here would be to drag the kid right to a hospital, but--

No doctors?

Some of it must show in his eyes, because Furiosa intervenes. She has some kind of patchwork Vuvalini shawl on her shoulders and she pulls it off and casts it around the kid. "What if I bring someone here from my world? We have midwives and redthumbs."

Steve searches her eyes for a second, scooping Miles up and standing easily. "Yeah. Okay. I'll give you the coordinates, but you--don't come there without an invitation after this, got it?"

"We can argue that later," she says, and after a brief verbal exchange of PINpoint information, she's gone, and Steve sets off at a run for the clubhouse, as fast as he can go and still move smoothly, without jarring Miles' injuries. "Keep talking to me, kiddo. How's school?"

School? What the fuck, Steve? He just doesn't want to interrogate him about the fight he just went through. Not while he's this rattled.