[ Okay. This is a thing they're doing now. Ephemera finishes unwrapping his hands, flexing his fingers and watching how they bend with a critical eye. Nothing's bent at weird angles, so that's good. Sometimes he doesn't realize he's broken something until afterward, when the swelling starts to make him clumsy and stiff. Pain is a distant thing these days. It tends to worry other people when they realize, so he tries to avoid that.

He shakes his head. Realizes too late that Jónsson's watching him close, like a good Helljumper, and it's probably telling that a man has to check whether or not his fingers are broken after the fact. Nothing for it, though. And it's not like the damage is unexpected in their line of work. ]

I'm good.

[ He'll clean them before they head back out to the crowd. Slap a bandage on top so the mess won't get infected. Ephemera stands up slowly, stretching a bit. He took a couple hard hits in the fight, stuff that's going to linger. Just how it is. He's been going hard the last couple nights, trying to focus on the violence and stay out of his own head. Results are mixed. But he's made a choice now, to be full a person, or at least as close as he can manage.

Besides. Jónsson had a nice smile. The sort a person might miss if they weren't looking. Ephemera used to be good at playing social, could even manage it when he was Sharkface, so he can damn well do this in the aftermath.

It's only hard if he lets it be hard. ]

I'll clean this, then we can go.

[ He pauses. ]

They don't have tequila. But the green shit kicks like a mule. It even outs.

[ He misses tequila. ]