Evan was still relatively surprised that someone had actually taken the time to see if he was okay. Nowadays any type of random act of kindness was surprising – most everyone saw fit to look out for number one over all else, after all – but he kind of had to figure that this guy was a medical professional. At least he hoped so. He knew that lots of people nowadays knew basic field medicine, Evan himself was one of them as a matter of fact. But dealing with this wound himself in chaos such as this wasn't something that Evan really wanted to do. He also didn't want a half-assed job on a knife-wound to his side, but he'd take what he could get.
He laughed derisively at the comment about him being popular as he glanced over his shoulder at the crowd that had formed behind the bus, flocking to his blood like vampires. "Think I'd rather go unnoticed," he mused with a slight grunt of pain at having irritated the gash by moving.
"I'm Immune," Evan mumbled when the driver started looking at him like he planned to throw him out. He'd like to see them try. Yeah, he was a little bit scathed up and he'd lost a bit of blood, but he could still kick the ass of any bus driver who thought he was the be-all end-all authority as to who got to live or not. "Seriously, I am. Came from Grand Central," he insisted to the bus driver, who barely acknowledged it, other than to say "You start to turn, I'll shoot you right in the face."
"What a cheerful thought," Evan responded sarcastically to the bus driver's retreating back as he glanced back at the guy who was looking him over. He laughed bitterly once again when the guy teased him. "Kinda hard to keep your balance when someone screams and a crawler grabs your leg. I did what I could not to stab myself in the chest," he answered, somewhat sarcastically. Still, it probably wasn't wise to bitch at the man who had offered to tend to a wound without provocation.
So, instead, he lifted the side of his shirt and showed the four inch long split in his side. What he got for keeping sharp knives, he supposed. "Half-assed medical care is better than bleeding out on the way back to Grand Central, I think," he said, trying a joke, but it was really just morbid truth. "Thanks, either way."