Wesley took back the knife, wiping the blood on his pants as best as he could before putting it back in its sheath. He hated it when something got the jump on him badly like that. He was gritting his teeth at the moment, partly from the pain and partly from just sheer anger at the moment. This was supposed to be something that didn't happen to him anymore.
He took a deep breath to calm himself down. "At least one cracked rib," he said, pushing his jacket back to feel gently at his chest, hissing in pain as soon as his fingers brushed over it. "Maybe two." He wasn't going to be going out for a while with this.