Jonathan grinned as the toxin started to take effect, leaning against Nightmare (who had come closer once the fight died down), trying to catch his breath. "Stupid bitch," he muttered, kicking her in the side before tilting his head back, lifting his mask to get some fresh air (after making sure they were alone), sighing.
He was getting tired of the fights, it was so much easier to just spray and run. He glanced down at his scrapped arm, hissing at the pain now that he was focused on it. Cleaning the wound was going to hurt.