[It's not that he's never had comfort before - his momma loves him, after all - but since his life started spiraling downwards he's developed a deep and vital need for kindness. He's a naturally affectionate person, that affection boxed away from others by his volatile personality and being a guy in the tough love law enforcement field. So when she touches her arm, he changes the position and tentatively holds her hand, gives it a weak squeeze. He looks at her as if she's an angel sent down to make everything okay.]

Got it from one of those wraiths up the hill, taking a hit for that Ronan jackass. [There's something still of the police mentality, the "blue shield", left in Dixon, even if all his work friends treated him as if he were radioactive the second he got fired. You don't mess with a unit. Teammates will fight, lie and die for each other, no matter their personal problems.

Not that that makes him like Ronan any more.]

Great. I probably had it coming. Actually. [He sighs, but the truth is he doesn't actually care that much. To an extent, he welcomes the pain. It gives him a chance to beat himself up with something besides straight-up guilt.]

Do we need to do it old-fashioned, with just stitches and rubbing alcohol? [The thread can probably be teased out of their ragged clothing; they might have to used boiled water and prayer for disinfectant, if that can even touch an infection by evil.]