Joe lumbered toward the back, careful to keep his sword secured with one hand and his face with the other.  He made his way toward the indicated and had a seat.  He would keep his hold on the bloody gauze until told to remove it.  He knew the score from other docs.<br/><br/>"A fight.  The usual thing.  You know, a few gangers try to whip me to prove they're badass, but then they pull out weapons after I throw a knockout blow.  These ones just got luckier than most."  He chuckled.  "A knife gave me this bleeder, doc.  Couldn't see if it had anything on it, like rust or poison, but I guess poison would have put me out before I got here, yeah?  But the damn thing bled really well.  I don't know if he cut something important, but...didn't want to chance it."<br/><br/>He shrugged his shoulders.  "Oughta start wearing a helmet, maybe it'll save me from this kind of stuff."<br/><br/>The real answer was to get off the streets and into a far more suitable job than the one he had just came from...but he always felt the itch to fight again when things got a little too quiet.  The worst kind of addiction a man can have in this modern age...