"It's not even a bite, it's a slice to my side, dude, come on," Evan snarked at the guy he heard cocking his gun. He had a veneer of calm, but at the same time, his hand was ready to reach for the knife at his side. Not that he thought that bringing a knife to a gun fight was a smart idea, but he'd lost his shotgun when he'd fallen, and he'd really been too preoccupied to pick it up when he'd gotten back to his feet. He turned his attention back to the guy in front of him – the guy he could only assume (or hope) was a doctor – and chuckled again. "Thanks, but if they don't believe me now, I don't think they will until I don't change. You know how it is," he mused.
"I'm pretty sure I'm the least useful Immune you could find right now since I'm more or less a delicious buffet for the undead right now, but yeah, it's a nice thought nonetheless," he joked, flashing a crooked smile in his fellow Immune's direction. "You too, huh?" he asked, though the man had already confirmed his Immune status by asking the question to begin with.
That figured. Evan was usually pretty good at standing upright and keeping himself from making many idiotic mistakes, but the one time he screwed up and it was apparently a doozie and a half. "When I fuck up, I fuck up masterfully, apparently," he joked sarcastically, watching as the guy did his doctor thing and grabbed a piece of cloth. Following directions, Evan took the cloth and pressed on the wound so hard it hurt.
"Don't worry, if I knock your teeth out, I'll wait until after you're finished… at least give you a chance to run," he smirked. The joke was in bad taste, but Evan didn't usually make jokes in good taste nowadays, so at least he was consistent. He hissed and white-knuckle dripped the bus seat when the antiseptic touched his skin, slamming his eyes shut and cursing under his breath. "That shit hurts," he mumbled.
He laughed hollowly through still-half-gritted teeth when the guy told him that stitching the wound would hurt like hell. "Oh, good. I needed a little more pain to make it through the day," he said, lowering his eyes from the ceiling to look at the doctor when he asked his name. What weird timing. Nonetheless, he obliged. The guy was stitching his side, after all. "I do have a name, in fact. Evan. You?"