"Nah, I ain't that bad off." The bar brawl added a few more scrapes and bruises, sure, but Jason was doing just fine with his fucked arm and the rest of his injuries before he'd gotten into it. His hesitance to get into more fights isn't about how well he'd keep himself standing, it's - he's gotten most of it out of his system by now, and he doesn't want to get any more wounds.

Bigby crouches down close, and Jason uses the lack of distance between them to press a hand against his shoulder, moving to use Bigby to get himself up to his feet. He's sat down long enough, and whoever the hell doctor Goodsir is, Jason doesn't feel like sticking around long enough to find out.

"I've got people here," His two younger brothers, both of which are around here - somewhere. Neither of which Jason intends to hunt down to patch him up. Damian's great at putting people back together when he needs to, but he doesn't need to deal with Jason's bullshit. And his relationship with Tim is a little complicated currently. Still, claiming he has them here isn't a lie. "if I'm bad off enough to need more than what they can handle, I'd be dead anyway."

They're all well-trained field medics including Jason, who's pretty sure he can handle patching himself up soon as he's found somewhere to hunker down. Which is what he's planning on doing now.