（ oh, he's still enough, one hand braced above the injury, the other below it. the alcohol hits and there surely ain't no screaming, but he does mutter out a a blue streak in gaeilge: ）

Go mbrise an diabhal do chnámha.

（ it's said with a sort of wry, pained amusement rather than any especial vehemence. but the pain is quick and sharp and withers, and as it eases off his grip against the limb does likewise. he shakes one hand to get the residual alcohol off, and then gives his companion a lopsided grin that hides his crooked teeth. ）

Ah, that weren't so bad. 'Course, I'm saying that now, but I'm guessing you're about to tell me you're gonna be stitching it up too, huh?