[ hey, it's not his fault he still gets somewhat queasy at the sight of blood... he'll deal, though, because he has to — making sure Jason is alright is far more important. ]

Fine, but if you faint, I'm not kissing you awake.

[ a hollow joke to lighten the mood, to balance out the way it is now Jason whose tone is sharp, on an edge. Stiles takes the suggestion, pauses to look around for a pair he could use, pulls open some of the drawers, groaning in frustration when there's absolutely nothing useful in them.

after some seconds of deliberation, he shakes his head. ]

We don't have time. Don't worry, man, it'll be fine.

[ there is no way he can guarantee that, the reassurance empty as it is, but he's willing to take the risk — Jason is looking even paler, now, and if they wait for much longer... ]

Move your hand.