[NOT A WORD. Although he does fight back a smirk at the earring, with great difficulty. He takes the shirt and pulls at the holes already torn into it from the fight, rending it even further into strips. Folding up a larger piece, he presses it to the wound again, with a little more care this time. His eyes shoot to the cut in Zoro's shoulder, bleeding freely down his arm and chest now.]

Just what the hell did you do to get so cut up, anyway? I thought you had that group of 'em just fine, or so you said.