And the police shoot, their aim still steady - better, now that the dragon's in range.

Two bullets hit the dragon's other eye - it's still flying straight, but it's roaring in pain, head thrashing - and three bullets deal some wound or another to its chest.

One of the police needs to be evacuated to the healers, having been caught by a stray bullet - she's cursing as she's brought in, but she's bleeding heavily, the bullet having entered her chest somewhere - past what mundane magic can usually rescue.

Pennie rubs her hands together as she gets close to the wounded officer. "Alright, this is gonna feel weird, but hang on." Magical energy sparks between her hands as she lays them on the officer, healing her enough for her to get back on her feet. (1 hp healing *ought* to do that)

The woman sucks in a sharp breath - but she's not dying anymore, at least. Still, she feels too woozy to climb the steps back to her position, an attempt the other medics are extremely unimpressed with. They make her lie down, in an out of the way corner, and drink some sugary tea.

"Bon sang, it does not quit does it?" Marcel raises his other revolver and fires at the dragon again.

"Gotta admire that tenacity," Joy replies, grinning with exhilaration.

Marcel's bullet slams into the dragon's open mouth. He appears to have been trying to gear up to breathe fire... Once he was in range of these pesky gnats.

The dragon goes down, flailing, unable to coordinate enough to fly - 

He slams into the grow, hard, and does not get up.

"-Huh. Nevermind."

Pennie steps towards the dragon a little, confused. "Uh. Should I give it a zap to save it or are we gonna let it die? I can go either way."

"...Hm. Did I do that?" Marcel stows the revolvers in his coat, clambering down to the others and peering over the edge. "Je ne sais pas if that's a good idea. I'm not sure how much information we could squeeze out of it, but we don't want it torching any people or buildings as soon as it gets conscious."

"If we can stop him bleeding without waking him up, we should, and let the national guard play security while we handle questioning - once the lazy bastards show up," the police chief, a rather unflappable woman with terrifyingly accurate aim, says over the sound of her squad cheering. "I've heard it's possible to keep some folks just conscious enough for questions but not for fighting, but I don't know how easy that is. Certainly not without magic."

Pennie continues forward and reaches the dragon to see if he's still alive. Presuming a yes, she starts rubbing her hands together to charge magical energy. "Alright, I can keep him from dying, but he might wake up enough to fight back. Someone punch him in the snout when he does. That should do the trick."

"I can do that," Joy offers, coming up behind her.

The police chief follows her with a squad. She keeps her gun holstered, but has her squad stand back and ready their firearms - while the rest of her squad stays on the rooftops. "Shouldn't be us," she says. "Arguably, he's now a prisoner."

"Or moi." Marcel makes a karate chop motion. "Je connais le kung fu."

Temperance approaches the creature curiously. "Do we know anything about them?"

"Not much other than they came from a nearby swamp and are fairly young. All the more reason to keep it alive for questioning. But as la chef de police said, we need to keep it under until the national guard arrives." Marcel rolls up his sleeves and nods to Penny. "Whenever you're ready, Mademoiselle."

Pennie nods, and presses her hands to the dragon's head, allowing the magic to heal it enough to avoid dying. (1 hp)

Dragon seems slightly less likely to die in the next few seconds - 

And wakes up, groggy.

"Bonne nuit." Marcel promptly smacks it on the side of its head with a carefully aimed fist.

And dragon is out like a light. At least now he's a light that isn't dying of internal organ rupture.

"Nice blow," Joy offer's Marcel, taking a step closer to peer down at the dragon, "...Now what?"

"Now we wait for the 'big guns' to arrive. Speaking of which..." Marcel retrieves the revolvers from his coat and returns them. "Merci beaucoup. I really should invest in some for myself."

The police chief thanks him with a smile. "The mayor's going to be throwing around accolades after this. I might could put a word in that properly arming all y'all would be a sensible repayment."

Joy offers the rifle he'd borrowed to a nearby officer as well, "I'm sure we'd all appreciate it. There's still that cult to deal with, after all," he recalls.

"I know I hit the thing, but I feel weird using firearms instead of magic."