"Just a few scratches." Except his hand wasn't a scratch. Granted, there was nothing serious, but the exorcists stoicism could be beyond frustrating. Looking up at Chas, though, he could tell the kid wasn't okay. There was just something so stilted about the way he went about doing the task at hand. Fear?
John was quiet while Chas wrapped up his hand and saw to his face. And when he spoke again, John nodded. The kid was right. The shirt was thin and he'd felt it being torn in places. He'd felt those birds catching the flesh underneath. So without protest, John shift further upright, took the weight off that one hand so he could pull the tie off.
"How's Rain look?" His voice was stronger, less like that of dying man. John glanced up at Chas again...guiltily? And then over to Rain. She'd come back to help him. Save him, probably. If he was honest with himself. Those birds would have pecked him to death after he passed out from being unable to breath. And then he'd be in hell. Granted, John would end up their anyway. He only had a year, maybe. But that didn't mean he could just let go.
But saving her had cost Rain. John tore his eyes away and looked back at the door. His next words were a lot quieter. "It's my fault." He was already on the last of the buttons, and shrugging out of the shirt. And sure enough there were quite a few bloody marks on him, especially just at the collar line on the back of his neck.