He told Johnny he didn’t need ‘em. It was just a gunshot wound, it’ll heal fine without the need of medical help. He knows that because he’s had multiple. But the bullet was too deep and prodding himself with those goddamn tweezers was already making his fingers sweat.

“Not’ to be scared of, LT,” Johnny patted his shoulder knowing fully well the bullet was on his side. The frickin’ prick he was, “Heard there’s a new nurse. Don’t give ‘em a hard time, now. You owe Callaway quite the apology after scaring her last time,” ah, yes. Joanne Callaway. He nearly knocked the daylights out of her last time he came to get bullets out of him. It was an instinct, nothing personal. His body was always on survival mode, either kill or get killed, and Callaway accidentally triggered that as she wiggled bullets out his callous body. Poor lady saw her life flash before her eyes for a second there.

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” he says in his gruff, rough voice that he always carried, also with the help of the cigarettes he had smoked in his lifetime.

“Ah, well… perhaps it’ll be different with the new nurse, eh? Aye, LT. Don’t go scarin’ ‘em off again, it ain’t Halloween just yet, mate,” Johnny lets out a low chuckle and pulls away from Simon now that they’ve reached the medical wing. Simon’s side was aching at this point, Johnny’s irritating charisma not helping. He lets out a small sigh, squeezing his fists hoping to get it over with as soon as possible.

He was about to sit down somewhere until you stood in front of him with that bright look on your face that made him squirm more than the bullet on his side.