[It hurts. It's not unimaginable pain- he's been shot hundreds of times at once, he knows what that kind of pain is- but that doesn't mean being hefted by your ankle with a knife tentacle feels good. His pantleg does nothing to shield him from it as the knives sink into his skin, blood pooling through his clothing until it starts to drip down onto the snow. It's rolling down his face as he hangs upside-down, dripping in much larger splatters from that huge tear through his blazer at his side.

But for as much as he's hurting, and as terrifying as this could be, he feels a surge of elation when he sees that Nai is bleeding. That his wounds haven't healed over, that he isn't the only one struggling. He wants so badly to spit in his direction, but he also doesn't want to lose his foot entirely, even as he feels rage bubbling up in his chest at the way his gun is being held just out of easy reach.

The blood is rushing to his head. It makes his vision swim, but he doesn't reach for his vials, which are a precious commodity he isn't going to waste here.]

I'm...sending a message, Knives.

[He grinds it out, stilted through gritted teeth, copper overwhelming his senses as he tastes blood on his tongue which he promptly ignores. It probably doesn't come across as severely as he would like, since he's being swung about like a ragdoll.]

You ain't invincible. You bleed like the rest of us lowly humans. Chew on that while you spin on the stick up your ass!!