[Despite the urge to play the faint-hearted damsel, Jemma does as she usually does, and does as she likes without a care as to what some stranger would like. Was that really their selected fantasy? Heroic gunslinger? People were strange.

With a little difficulty, she climbs over the bar and lowers Will to the dirty floor (with maybe a little bit of a thud, sorry, Will). The wound is bleeding -- or is it? -- and she casts a look around for something to hold against the wound. The bar rag is right out, and nothing else is in immediate view.]

Hold on -- Just put some pressure there, and I'll try to get a better look.