( he's leaning up against where all the fun hand-held shooty weapons are, pistol in hand, but his attention quickly shifts to the idiot running around in a medical gown the moment he bursts in. jason doesn't flinch any; he looks plenty at ease where he's standing, as if all of this was completely normal, just another average tuesday afternoon. because it kind of is, discounting the specifics.
the kid says don't point that shit at me and jason's immediate response is to raise the pistol and point it at him. his finger isn't near the trigger, carefully resting his index finger against the barrel instead to keep it pointed straight. it's not the proper way to handle something like this, but - honestly, he hasn't figured out what the proper way to hold this shit is just yet, and it's not going off so it's fine. )
Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your stitches pulling.
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the kid says don't point that shit at me and jason's immediate response is to raise the pistol and point it at him. his finger isn't near the trigger, carefully resting his index finger against the barrel instead to keep it pointed straight. it's not the proper way to handle something like this, but - honestly, he hasn't figured out what the proper way to hold this shit is just yet, and it's not going off so it's fine. )
Sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your stitches pulling.