[ His hand lands on her shoulder, and she allows herself a second to tip her head towards his knuckles before she finishes with the scissors and strips the mess of his shirt away. His side is a mess, slick and red, but she can see the wound now. Blood stills oozes from it, but it's not rushing, pumping, like it would from an artery. ]

Jesus, she got you good. She think you were a ham steak, or something?

[ It falls flat in the face of her worry and strain, and she presses a thickly folded piece of gauze to stem the bleeding for a moment before she examines the wound again. She can't tell if the knife hit anything really important, if he's bleeding too much inside; they need a doctor. ]

You're gonna be okay, Tommy.

[ It's as much for her as it is for him, as she presses the gauze back to the wound, firm. ]

I've got you, okay?