Don sucks in air between his teeth when he sees the wound, gingerly taking hold of the arm and tilting it for better light. These kind of wounds are still new to him, but he recognizes one poorly cared for all the same.

He grumbles, but he doesn't look up and his grip remains soft, at least until he finishes his examination and drops it, reaching for the bag on his back. "What happened? And, by the way? If you tear my stitches? You won't be moving for a month.

"Raph, get over here."