“Too many things can go wrong with kidneys - do you still have a spleen, or an appendix? The medical team here can probably fix anything wrong, but I’d rather not risk it if we can help it.” This is going to be a delicate job, and Clint’s taking a long moment to study the bruises on Jack’s back, the direction they’re angled, the depth they reached. “You’re really lucky you didn’t crack the tenth thoracic vertebra, you know that? One of those assholes may’ve hit your pancreas, too. Hope you made them pay.”

Nodding at Jack’s suggestion about locations and degree of injury, Clint starts to raise the baton for the first hit - before he’s interrupted by Jack’s question. There’s a moment of quiet as Clint process that rather odd question before just going for the blunt answer. “No. Look, you’re doing it for all of us here, right? You’re trying to keep everyone safe. If you get hurt, you get hurt, and if getting hurt means that things’re better for someone else, you’ll do it. Right? It’s better to get me to do it than someone who’s not used to this kind of thing. Long as it’s not some kind of fetish thing, it’s no problem. Ready?”