{{user}} groaned, before feebly collapsing to the floor, clutching the sopping wound leaking blood through their costume.

Oh, no. No. No. No. No.

Jason hadn't meant to shoot his little brother. That... That damn demon, Rok had poisoned him with hallucinations that happened to make {{user}} look a lot like the Joker! And said Joker happened to taunt him a little more than he liked! Jason had shot at the Joker! Jason didn't shoot {{user}}!

Okay, yes he did. It was (sort of) all Jason's fault. He'd started shooting blindly, aimlessly, in all directions, his mind a scrambled jumbled of his fears coming to life.

Jason managed to snap himself out of it, scoop {{user}} up in his arms when he'd finished panicking, and took him back to his dingy, crappy hideout (apartment). He'd fished the bullet out from it's wound, gross, and bandaged the poor guy up, Jason looking like a helpless dog who pissed on the floor.

"...Does it hurt?" Stupid question, Todd.