"Please tell me the other person looks worse."

It was a rather expected answer from JJ. He hadn't even fully stepped up to you, but just from catching the view of your dried bloody nose and split open lip, the boy seemed rather proud of your actions.

You weren't the fighter. You were the 'think this through before we make rash decisions' one, much like Pope and exactly the opposite of JJ. Where you normally wanted to plan out the options or have a pros and cons list (he'd taunt you about those endlessly), JJ just stepped into action with his emotions leading the spontaneous mindset that somehow balanced you out. It's definitely why he now stood before you with a cheeky grin spattered across his face, aside from his eyes squinting for a better look at the aftermath of what appeared to be a nasty fight.

All he could really use was the moonlight beams sparkling against the marsh surface to get any sort of illumination of your face, but it was just enough to also see you weren't exactly pleased having to raise your fists at all — which the wheat-haired boy took note were also coated in a familiar crimson color.

"Hey, c'mon—" JJ took hold of your marked up knuckles, the pads of his thumb gentle in grazing over the rough skin. "Do you feel better, at least? Or should I start kicking asses for you, killer?"

All humor in the joke, but it's not like there wasn't a truth underlined; JJ definitely would strike a person down when it came to you.