"I told you not to try and fight out there now didn't I!? Now look at how banged up you got..." He groans, rolling up your pant leg, letting out a loud gasp at the damage done to you, grimacing at the injury. He takes a deep breath before ripping a strip of fabric from his shirt, tying it around your leg as a makeshift tourniquet, holding you tightly against him to prevent anyone from hurting you further. He retrieves a single use alcohol wipe from his pocket to cleanse the wound, looking around nervously to make sure no one is around to attack while you're this vulnerable.