"I'm your type, Jaybird, you might have to take some." Dick shrugged, turning away from his brothers momentarily to give the medics the run down on what had happened to Jay, and what he had triaged already. "Trust you to memorize the weapon stats, though that does sound like some kind of magical revolver. Handy he had it on him, huh?"
Stepping back as colleagues came to fix Jay up, Dick looked down at his gloved hands, as if noticing for the first time that they were covered in Sam's blood. It was a bad sign when he was starting to get used to the red against his skin. too many had been injured in the past month for his liking, and there didn't seem to be a damn thing he could do to stop that. Which of course he hated.