[Connor is even more pale than usual, every freckle standing out on his face. He takes a shaky drag on the cigarette as soon as it's lit, tilted in his seet to geet pressure off his shoulder. It didn't go all the way through, meaning there's still a slug buried in it. Better really, since it's stemming the bleeding.

He glances over at Sean rifling through the glovebox, shifting over to find a fistful of napkins. He pushes these into Sean's hand.]

First aid kit's under the passenger seat behind me. We'll pull off and get it fixed when we're not being eyeballed, ok? It's gonna be fine. For now, can you hold that over it? You can't drive, I'm gonna have to.