Remy let out a grunt and growl of pain at the first stab, and bit back more by holding his breath for the subsequent stabs, brow furrowed and eyes slamming shut. He shook his head to clear his mind from the pain as the wounds started to close slowly. "Wouldn't do t'at," Gambit hissed through his teeth, taking in a deep breath, "you might catch somet'in'." He heaved a chuckle through the pain, brow knit in concentration as he felt the wounds heal fully, "Y'know. 'Cuz I sleep 'round. Little joke, t'at. But really, t'at's fuckin' unhygienic, homme."
He looked down at his shoulder, brow raised at the blood that looked like it had seemingly seeped from nowhere. Goddamn, that hurt. He wasn't used to pain of that caliber, and in hindsight, he thought maybe he should have prepared himself more thoroughly. He wasn't sure how far The Joker was going to take things, but most of what this man could conceivably dish out, he'd dealt with before. He also thought of how much of a bitch it'd be to patch up his coat. Well, better the coat then his muscle tissue, he figured.