[ he's had first aid training!!!! did you know it's like, required, when you own a business, that you need at least emergency first aid training? because you do.
and part of that training is puncture wounds and you ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TAKE THE KNIFE OR WHATEVER ELSE IS LODGED IN OUT. And yet here he is, eyes on the knife, then eyes to dante. rather, eyes to the STAB WOUND that's just underneath that nice new shirt of his.

and the worst part is dante is LAUGHING about it. it feels maddening, like there's some big cosmic joke happening. as he strains to try to figure out what it is he's missing--and then his mind drifts to the memories he's already spent all week obsessing over.
How, in those dreams of fighting and clashing with the man in red, that whenever a sword bit or tore at him, it hurt, it bled--but it never continued bleeding.

(why?) he's going to use that towel he'd grabbed up to hastily clean the blood off his hand, almost as if he needs to. just. do something with his hands before he completely loses his mind, here. ]

Sitting is probably a good idea. [ he won't admit that his legs feel like jelly. don't mind if he just
tears his eyes away from dante
to cross over to the small dining-room table where he sits, his elbows going on his knees, his head tilted down as he continues to unfortunately, consciously breathe. ]

When you pull an object out of a stab wound, it's supposed to gout.

You can start there.
You have ... some sort of ability to shrug off wounds?