Great. He'd been spotted. Teddy groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, as if Gwen would have disappeared by the time he'd opened them again. Alas, it wasn't to be.
"Flight practice. Someone decided I was a clay pigeon or something; good for skeet shooting. In spite of the fact that I'm GREEN." His volume started to rise again towards the end of the sentence, and by the last word he was back to shouting at the sky. The boy exhaled through his nose.
"I mean, really," he said to Gwen, tearing his eyes away from the rooftops, "I can see why people'd be jumpy, what with all the weirdness here, but that's no reason to just shoot bystanders. I'm not, like, going to home-invasion them or anything. Minding my own business." Teddy's tirade ended with his hands up in front of him, palms out in a defensive position. Then Gwen's question sank in.
"My shoulder? Oh, sure, but it's probably fine, I--" Err. Okay, how was he going to expose the spot where he'd been grazed? Teddy frowned, then gingerly eased the sleeve up over his arm. The flesh under the fabric was green too, and a mild graze was slowly closing as they spoke. Not so fast that one could see it happening with the naked eye, but rapidly none the less.