The guards recognized her well enough to not interfere or try to keep her away from Bass. She was his...well, noone really had a word for it that encompassed it and wasn't insulting, so. The closest thing they'd had to a First Lady. They let her in with nods, stepping aside to give her room.

Inside was another militia member, though this one with a red and white cross on a band on his arm--a medic the surgeon had left behind to watch over the President while he tended to the others in the med tent. He might have preferred to keep Bass there, but everyone agreed he'd be more comfortable in his own bed and they could better control who had access near him.

They had him in his bed, shirt off; his chest was bandaged, blood seeping through on a side, though far less than there had been. There were bruises peeking out from under the bandages, as well as along his arm and shoulder on the bandaged side, with another that had bloomed along his temple.

The medic had been trying to get some water down his throat, at least, even if they weren't able to get much food into him, but water was essential. He stood when Charlie came in, giving her a startled look. Unlike the others, he spent a lot of time on the battlefield and hadn't seen here before, so he frowned a little.

"...Can I help you?"