Re: log: Tony's Super Secret Facility
The sigh escaped accompanied by a shake of Bruce's head and a half-formed mumble about not being fuzzy. A mumble that shifted into a sharp glance back over his shoulder. "No one is shooting anyone." The tone was one that didn't allow for argument. From either one of them.
And it was very much not about use. Not in Bruce's mind, at least. It was about the fact that, even with whatever version of the serum Barnes had running through him, a body could only sustain so much. And he may not have started out as the type of doctor to see to illness and injury, but he'd damn well become one in the past years. And this wasn't the day he was going to stop.
The sound of that affirmative grunt had barely died away before Bruce was moving forward. Purposefully, but not rushing, keeping to a speed that was hopefully not going to be seen as an attack or ambush. The flight from the Tower had rattled him more than the possible danger in front of him. He slid easily into assessment of the wounds, but also was going to rely on someone that appeared to have an awareness of himself and the situation. "How many pieces? Can you tell? If not, do I have your permission to ask Tony's systems to scan you?" He set his bag on the bed next to Barnes, sparing a second to make sure he wasn't putting it directly into the spread of the other man's blood, and then opened it, finding the tools and supplies he needed. His gaze was down, showing trust (or carelessness?) in what appeared to be an only peripheral awareness of Barnes. But aware enough to pull out a worn but clean washcloth and lob it towards that blood-slick metal hand with barely a glance.
"The leg is worse than the arm? Do you think you'll need a transfusion?" He hadn't planned for that. Not that he kept stores of blood anywhere just in case near-century-old soldiers were shot on his watch. The gaze that had been down in his bag shifted over for just a moment to assess the leg again. "I'll need to be able to get at that wound to clean it out." And at the moment, there was clothing and armor in the way. But he would let Barnes decide how to deal with that.
His voice stayed steady, both in tone and volume. He wasn't barking orders, and he wasn't requiring a full report. He was asking for information, but never with the sort of force that would come from a superior's demands. He almost seemed laid back under the competent determination. Even in the face of jungle predators. He'd lived in the jungle, after all.