Jason’s helmet is physical armor and to some degree, emotional armor. As he watches the medical staff treat Donnie, his hidden facial expression is grim. The adrenaline and single-minded focus on an emergency is beginning to wear off. The guilt of having been so reckless starts to creep in again. If he had just taken a moment to think about who it was as opposed to diving straight into a fight, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

But then again, that’s just how he always works, isn’t it? As usual he’s the street rat thug with a nasty temper. At least he can say he’s consistent.

“How’re you holding?” He asks after a while. The worst of the gunshot wound seems to have been taken care of and Jason could tell from how Donnie tightened up during treatment that it was not the smoothest ride for him.