There are dumpsters, of course. But the arm of someone laying behind one is less expected.

...That's concerning.

"Hello?" Aaren calls cautiously, shifting to see if he can get a better view without actually getting any closer.

It's a girl, in her early teens most likely. She doesn't stir.

...That isn't concerning at all.

"Hey, kid?" he tries again, a little bit louder.

Nope.

He crouches down and shifts closer, trying to make sure he's not hemming her in - not that easy when she's behind the dumpster - and gently touches the back of her hand.

"Hey?" he stills keeps his voice low and steady.

No reaction.

...Okay. He very carefully shifts her arm so it's better hidden - he can go to one of the takeaways, grab a couple of bottles of water, soak the sleeve of his jacket and see if that on her skin wakes her.

She shudders, barely strongly enough to be visible, but doesn't wake.

He adds a bit more water to the jacket sleeve, drips a few drops of water onto the corner of her mouth, pulling back a little way after that to try and give her space.

She still doesn't move.

...Which leaves him with a dilemma, because he doesn't want to pull her from her hiding place while she's not conscious, but he wants to leave her here even less.

He drips a little more water on the side of her mouth.

"Hey, kid," he says gently, hoping she's conscious enough to hear him. "This isn't the safest place to be sleeping." This is not just sleeping. "I'd like to help you get somewhere safe."

Definitely not just sleeping.

...He's out of ideas on how to get her conscious here. Not sure how to get enough water into her to hydrate her, how to try and combat any potential sunstroke.

-Which is about the time he remembers that calling Ange and asking her to get Drex to him is always an option. So he does. It doesn't take him long to explain the situation - as much of it as he knows.

Aaren's barely put the phone down when Drex steps out of a portal behind him, his giant dog Esca trailing in his wake.

Drex nods sharply to Aaren, and ushers him away from the dumpster so that he can crouch down.

"I'm going to touch you," he says to the girl, regardless of her seeming state of consciousness. "I won't hurt you." He reaches out, and, with perhaps surprising care and gentleness for someone his size, touches the back of her hand. Soft green light flows down from his hand into her, looking for a physical assessment of the girl's health.

It's entirely unclear whether she'll survive the next few days, left to her own devices - she might, but it'd be a near thing, and she's already accumulating heart damage as her system struggles to cope with the effects of getting too much food too suddenly after a brush with starvation compounded by long-term malnourishment.

...Some people should never be allowed anywhere near children.

Drex breathes out carefully and-

-and lets more magic spiral down his hand into the teen's body, looking to heal what he can - he would ask permission, but she got away from whatever had left her like this, and has fought so hard, he doesn't think she wants to die now. And if it turns out he's wrong, she can at least go out on her own terms, not because she has no other option. He can fix her heart, soothe some of the damage of her system struggling to cope. He can't fix malnutrition - no magic can fix that - but he can leave her in a better state for getting food into her.

She wakes with a little jolt after a few minutes, and looks worriedly up at him.

He opens his eyes when she jolts, withdraws his hand and shuffles back to give her a little more space, rolls the second, sealed, bottle of water Aaren had bought towards her.

Aaren loiters worriedly in the background, one hand keeping Esca from moving forward to inspect the teen.

She watches them, impassively, ignoring the water for now. (She's not dangerously dehydrated.)

"Hi," Drex says. "Do you like dogs?"

It takes a few seconds for her to respond, but then she glances at the dog, sits up - she's obviously still not well; she moves carefully, with clear focus, glancing back at them every few seconds in a way that's more about keeping track of them than wanting help - and offers her hand for him to sniff, her body language tense and carefully neutral on the subject of whether she likes the idea.

The dog pads forward, crouches low so he's shuffling forward on his belly so that he can sniff her hand. After a moment, he nuzzles into her hand and shuffles a little closer, so that when he puts his head on the ground, he's within easy reaching (petting) distance, should she want to.