TRIGGER WARNINGS: Swearing, knives, guns, blood.
“This looks bad, [name].”
“I’m not a masochist, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Jeez-! This hurts, y’know!”
“Reckon I’ll be able to make it back to the shack before collapsing?”
“What, so you’re supposed to carry bandages everywhere now? That takes up space, [NAME]!”
“I’d much rather be hopped up on various anesthetics than deal with this bullshit.”
“Am I supposed to be seeing bone?”
“I do not bond well with seeing blood, I’m afraid.”
“I’ll bloody well swear as much as I want – this hurts!”
“The knife that’s currently embedded in me is mine now. The fucker lost it the moment he stabbed me.”
“When will I ever stop getting into these situations?”
“If I’m going down, I gotta take ‘em with me.”
“I’ll take you down with me too, just gimme a few moments.”
“We’re making no progress with the whole limping thing here.”
“Do you even know how painful getting shot in the arm is?! It’s really fucking painful!”
“It sure would be nice if I could finally fucking die.”
“Honestly, why didn’t the guy kill me, y’know? Would have been a better way of getting my shit.”
“Seriously, this was a poorly done job. They should have fucking killed me instead of waiting for me to draw a gun!”
“Okay, lesson learned; don’t bring a knife to a gun fight.”
“Look, all I had on me was a fucking knife. What do you expect?”
“If you don’t want me hissing and wheezing in pain every time I take a step, why don’t you pick me up?”
“Bandages would be nice.”
“If I die, tell [NAME] that I fucking hated their balls.”
“I’m not gonna end up dying or anything, am I?”
“Okay, that looks really bad, I’m not gonna lie.”
“Look, I don’t even have a medical degree.”
“Does it look like I carry anesthetic?”
“Sorry that I can’t pick you up, bud, but I’m not exactly a knight in shining armor with a– a horse.”
“If you’re going to keep complaining, is there a way to get you to shut up?”
“Keep the pressure on that gash.”
“You’ll live, idiot.”
“Look, if I don’t have anything to help you out with, does it look like I can be much help?”
“Oh, no, no, no. You are not dying on me now.”
“Gimme a moment to tear up a bit of my shirt– the fabric’s pretty strong.”
“You’re a lucky one, huh?”
“Good thing we have a car somewhere.”
“What the hell were you doing out at night anyways?”
“Hey, I know this hurts for you, but you’ll get through this.”
“Alright, fine, I’ll pick you up. Just this once.”
“Uh, gimme a moment, I have some painkillers somewhere.”
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t come sooner!”
“Just put a plaster on it.”
“For someone that’s dying, you sure do love taking your time, don’t you?”
“Hey hey hey, calm down.”
“You’re not gonna die, quit being a drama queen.”
“You’ll be alright.”
“We gotta make it back to the car and drive you to a hospital.”
“Hey, you have a bit of a broken leg there.”
“I’m not good with blood either, if it makes you feel better.”
“You’re not seeing the reaper yet, are you?”
