Jin's got a mouthful of retorts for this stupid pretty hypercompetent teenager, but none of them make it past his lips. He only manages an obstinate expression up at Giorno: dimmed a little by the stinging pain of the wound in his arm and the embarrassment of his and Miles' stellar performance this evening.
He's thought better of it. For once.]
It is.
[The magical fibers of the ALASTAIR uniform are blood, adventure, and idiot-resistant, but it doesn't work instantaneously. Jin shrugs his coat off and rolls the sleeve of the undershirt up to expose the bullet wound. Less roll and more unstick. The injury itself is fairly clean, but minuscule dark threads cling to Jin's flesh and congealing blood.]
[ this leaves Miles with Carl, the bandit. who, in retrospect, is probably not a bandit and he's been mislabeling this protective, honest, hardworking gentleman miner with an itchy trigger finger as a "bandit" to make himself feel better about the whole situation. up to and including the moment where he
disarmed
him.
Carl, the retroactively-relabeled NON-BANDIT MINER, wants nothing to do with him. won't go near him, won't even look his way without that pain-fueled terror. and he understands, completely. there's nothing that he wants to do with himself either, other than wallow for a minute more in his simmering fury and humiliation, before he winds up moving closer to Giorno and Jin -- ]
I'm going to dump the rest of this shit.
[ the bombs he wasn't able to plant, because they'd run short on time. Carl's gun, still slick with his blood. anything to get out of dodge for a moment longer. he's a runner, when it comes down to it. ]
[Giorno glances sideways at Miles. Something here isn't quite right, and he can't put his finger on why--aside from all the obvious, but it's not that. It's something at a more bone-deep level; even when Gold Experience isn't visible, he's always being used, and he senses something unusual that has him plucking at Giorno's metaphorical sleeve.]
[It makes Giorno want to keep him close. He hesitates another moment before shaking his head.]
If you're injured, you need to stay where you are until I've had a chance to fix you.
[Maybe Miles will listen? Maybe. He turns back to Jin, either way. His eyes fix on the wound, and it's clear he's extremely familiar with gunshot wounds.]
It's cleaner than I expected. That's good. Jin, I'm going to use the bullet and whatever else is in there to fill in the injury. It won't get infected. Is that all right?
[giogio if we talk about how familiar jin is with getting his ass handed to him, in a colorful assortment of ways, on a finely wrought silver platter you guys are gonna be out in the cold all night.
The time to deal with how Miles was shot and apparently unscathed is quickly approaching, but even Jin knows it's a point still raw enough to not touch upon that very instant. His eyes drift from Giorno to Miles, attempting to make his exit stage right.] We don't know if anyone's still out here, either. The last thing we need is to get him into any more trouble-- or to drop a bunch of homebrewed bombs into the laps of any Deemers.
[Poor beleaguered Carl, wide-eyed, nods furiously. He's scooting away from Miles either way, though, keep that maniac away???]
[as for Jin and his bullet wound, though:] Whatever you need to do. [He still doesn't quite know how Giorno's abilities work (it just works, Jin) or how refilling the injury might feel, either, but anything's better than leaving bits of metal in him and he knows it.]
[ his response is immediate, biting. he has Carl's gun in one hand, one of the leftover bombs in the other, and a look of contempt on his face. either his aggression is heartfelt, deeply seated in his core the way rabies settled roughly in the mind, or it's something else entirely. his knuckles are white, and while it looks like Carl really wants that gun back, Miles has no intention of letting it go anywhere it could be aimed at him, or Jin, or Giorno -- but mostly at him. ]
Don't come near me with that -- however you're doing that.
[ He'd barely been able to handle the mending that Haise had done for his hands. Sealing wounds, patching hurts. It had been sensory overload, and now, after seeing AN ENTIRE ARM UNFURL LIKE A FUKKIN PLANT GROWING AT MACH SPEED he's definitely not keen on being seen to by Giorno. Or anyone, for that matter. Just take care of Jin, WOW!1!! ]
[Giorno's expression is swiftly changing from pissy agitation to pinched nerviness. Something isn't right, his instincts are screaming at him; Miles has been shot but he's not in enough pain to want to be healed, which doesn't make sense. There's tension centered in that gun, and Giorno doesn't want a jittery man with the ability to rip an arm off at the shoulder to be holding a loaded weapon.]
[Focus on Jin. He has to focus on Jin first. Focus on Jin, Jin is (relatively) safe and (relatively) known, Jin isn't a painless anomaly and he's not going to think about that anyway. Right.]
Right . . .
[He glances back at Jin, frowns, sits himself more firmly on his knees. He was feeling more petulant before, because Jin was being such a bastard about all of this, but now--he sighs a little.]
I was going to let it hurt. You're such a shit. But it won't hurt. Just hold still.
[Placing his hand under the wound, palm against the skin, he closes his eyes and concentrates. He was telling the truth: it doesn't hurt, although it certainly feels strange, like something foreign is pushing itself into Jin's body. That's exactly what is happening, at least up to a point. The bullet becomes flesh, muscle and sinew and skin, and debris stuck in the wound becomes simple human cells. They meld with what was already there in Jin's arm, molding to his existent muscle like there was never a wound in the first place.]
[Giorno's hand glows faintly gold; it spirals up his forearm, thin and slender shoots of light. After a few moments, he opens his eyes, then closes them again, pushes out into the rest of Jin's body to fix everything else there is. He's sure there's something--scrapes and bruises and sprains, hangnails, he doesn't care. He's halfway making a point and halfway just needs to wrest control from this situation however he can. He can make pain go away. That, at least, is within his power.]
[When he opens his eyes, he blinks up at Jin, a little grumpy and a little worried at once.]
[The sensation isn't unpleasant, but it's nothing like he's ever felt before, as if the bullet itself's forcing its way out of the flesh of his arm, pulling outward, then suddenly... ceasing. As if he'd never been shot to begin with. It's a strange feeling. 'Bizarre', even.
The warm light of Gold Experience's influence makes its second pass, and Jin's suddenly fine, beyond fine. He didn't sleep well the night before; sleeping on the hard ground's put a kink in his back; one of the miners had kicked him, leaving the very beginnings of a bruise. That and more all vanish into nothing.
But there's a sense of foreboding hanging about him, cloak-like. He nods, uncharacteristically tame, at Giorno, then turns to Miles.]
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no subject
Jin's got a mouthful of retorts for this stupid pretty hypercompetent teenager, but none of them make it past his lips. He only manages an obstinate expression up at Giorno: dimmed a little by the stinging pain of the wound in his arm and the embarrassment of his and Miles' stellar performance this evening.
He's thought better of it. For once.]
It is.
[The magical fibers of the ALASTAIR uniform are blood, adventure, and idiot-resistant, but it doesn't work instantaneously. Jin shrugs his coat off and rolls the sleeve of the undershirt up to expose the bullet wound. Less roll and more unstick. The injury itself is fairly clean, but minuscule dark threads cling to Jin's flesh and congealing blood.]
no subject
disarmed
him.
Carl, the retroactively-relabeled NON-BANDIT MINER, wants nothing to do with him. won't go near him, won't even look his way without that pain-fueled terror. and he understands, completely. there's nothing that he wants to do with himself either, other than wallow for a minute more in his simmering fury and humiliation, before he winds up moving closer to Giorno and Jin -- ]
I'm going to dump the rest of this shit.
[ the bombs he wasn't able to plant, because they'd run short on time. Carl's gun, still slick with his blood. anything to get out of dodge for a moment longer. he's a runner, when it comes down to it. ]
no subject
[It makes Giorno want to keep him close. He hesitates another moment before shaking his head.]
If you're injured, you need to stay where you are until I've had a chance to fix you.
[Maybe Miles will listen? Maybe. He turns back to Jin, either way. His eyes fix on the wound, and it's clear he's extremely familiar with gunshot wounds.]
It's cleaner than I expected. That's good. Jin, I'm going to use the bullet and whatever else is in there to fill in the injury. It won't get infected. Is that all right?
no subject
The time to deal with how Miles was shot and apparently unscathed is quickly approaching, but even Jin knows it's a point still raw enough to not touch upon that very instant. His eyes drift from Giorno to Miles, attempting to make his exit stage right.] We don't know if anyone's still out here, either. The last thing we need is to get him into any more trouble-- or to drop a bunch of homebrewed bombs into the laps of any Deemers.
[Poor beleaguered Carl, wide-eyed, nods furiously. He's scooting away from Miles either way, though, keep that maniac away???]
[as for Jin and his bullet wound, though:] Whatever you need to do. [He still doesn't quite know how Giorno's abilities work (it just works, Jin) or how refilling the injury might feel, either, but anything's better than leaving bits of metal in him and he knows it.]
no subject
[ his response is immediate, biting. he has Carl's gun in one hand, one of the leftover bombs in the other, and a look of contempt on his face. either his aggression is heartfelt, deeply seated in his core the way rabies settled roughly in the mind, or it's something else entirely. his knuckles are white, and while it looks like Carl really wants that gun back, Miles has no intention of letting it go anywhere it could be aimed at him, or Jin, or Giorno -- but mostly at him. ]
Don't come near me with that -- however you're doing that.
[ He'd barely been able to handle the mending that Haise had done for his hands. Sealing wounds, patching hurts. It had been sensory overload, and now, after seeing AN ENTIRE ARM UNFURL LIKE A FUKKIN PLANT GROWING AT MACH SPEED he's definitely not keen on being seen to by Giorno. Or anyone, for that matter. Just take care of Jin, WOW!1!! ]
no subject
[Focus on Jin. He has to focus on Jin first. Focus on Jin, Jin is (relatively) safe and (relatively) known, Jin isn't a painless anomaly and he's not going to think about that anyway. Right.]
Right . . .
[He glances back at Jin, frowns, sits himself more firmly on his knees. He was feeling more petulant before, because Jin was being such a bastard about all of this, but now--he sighs a little.]
I was going to let it hurt. You're such a shit. But it won't hurt. Just hold still.
[Placing his hand under the wound, palm against the skin, he closes his eyes and concentrates. He was telling the truth: it doesn't hurt, although it certainly feels strange, like something foreign is pushing itself into Jin's body. That's exactly what is happening, at least up to a point. The bullet becomes flesh, muscle and sinew and skin, and debris stuck in the wound becomes simple human cells. They meld with what was already there in Jin's arm, molding to his existent muscle like there was never a wound in the first place.]
[Giorno's hand glows faintly gold; it spirals up his forearm, thin and slender shoots of light. After a few moments, he opens his eyes, then closes them again, pushes out into the rest of Jin's body to fix everything else there is. He's sure there's something--scrapes and bruises and sprains, hangnails, he doesn't care. He's halfway making a point and halfway just needs to wrest control from this situation however he can. He can make pain go away. That, at least, is within his power.]
[When he opens his eyes, he blinks up at Jin, a little grumpy and a little worried at once.]
Better?
crawls back in
The warm light of Gold Experience's influence makes its second pass, and Jin's suddenly fine, beyond fine. He didn't sleep well the night before; sleeping on the hard ground's put a kink in his back; one of the miners had kicked him, leaving the very beginnings of a bruise. That and more all vanish into nothing.
But there's a sense of foreboding hanging about him, cloak-like. He nods, uncharacteristically tame, at Giorno, then turns to Miles.]
What about him?