Squall shook his head, pulling his jacket on with a little wince of pain. The leather rubbed at his wounds and probably would continue to do so until he took it off. "I'll take care of it." They're my injuries. I've done this to myself. Asking for help wasn't something Squall was used to, for anything. He only had himself to rely on for so long.

"They'll probably want an explanation," He was muttering to himself, throwing his pack over his shoulder, managing to completely hide the flinch of pain from another wound Firion didn't know about. It was the first thing he did once he entered the cave, to reopen the damn wound the Sorceress gave him from his world.

The throbbing pain was mostly gone, if not completely unless aggravated. As long as Firion thought only the wounds on his arms were his only self-inflicted injuries, then Squall didn't see a point of mentioning he had another.

Raising his arm, he called out, "Diablos. Pandemonium. Return."