[Joel acknowledges his words with a grunt, hands already fumbling at the button of his fly, shoving down the waistband. He spares half a thought of irritation for this whole fucking ridiculous situation-- shot to pieces by Vipers, stripping mostly naked in some god forsaken dump with a guy he can barely trust (even if he's been a good partner and reliable gun so far, and even if he seems to worry about every little thing, including worrying for Joel...)
By the time he's finished that train of thought, his pants are shoved down around his knees and he's leaning back again, sweating and clammy with exertion and blood loss. Shit. He should've taken care of this earlier.
Hands shaking, he fumbles for the bandaging, dropping it twice before managing to pressing the gauze to the wound, applying pressure.]
I'll be out the next few days for a con o/
By the time he's finished that train of thought, his pants are shoved down around his knees and he's leaning back again, sweating and clammy with exertion and blood loss. Shit. He should've taken care of this earlier.
Hands shaking, he fumbles for the bandaging, dropping it twice before managing to pressing the gauze to the wound, applying pressure.]