Aria sank into one of the chairs - she wasn't about to lay herself out on the dinged-up table like some sort of invalid. Looking over the wound herself she made a face at her own sloppiness and the nanites that swam through her bloodstream; without them she would have had no problem facing down the creature, even alone. She hated feeling weak and vulnerable, and her irritation was such that she snapped at Jackson as he started dabbing at the wound. "Do you mind? I'd rather not lose the arm thanks to your cackhandedness."