he stood funny on the left leg (in addition to the foot being broken, and his left arm was in a chicken wing pose, and it stayed that way.) i drive him to his house and carry him to his door. the whole time he's thanking me and offering me a shot of "hooch" as he called it, from a flask he pulls out of his pocket. i decline, proceed to walk to my car thinking. why the hell did i do that?most people would'nt give a rats ass about the next man. i wasnt even worried about myself. even w/o my gun. knowing i still would've done it anyway. i guess making sure he was ok makes it easier to sleep tonite.