Jason doesn’t have much skill in stitching, unless it’s knife wounds. Bitching, though? He’s got that part down. However, he’s quiet at the moment - not sitting in a chair with the rest of the group but standing near the door, leaning back against the wall, arms folded across his chest, silently debating with himself on whether showing up here was a bad idea. Positioning himself near the door means he can make a strategic and speedy exit if needed, but so far, it appears that such evasive maneuvers are not necessary.

Not yet, at least. Having attention turned on him with the expectation to speak? That definitely increases the likelihood of Jason bolting. He sighs, rubs a hand over his mouth, and shrugs.

“I don’t know how to do any of this.” And it really sucks to be in a position where he has to admit that. “Only thing I can really teach is how to fight, and I dunno how much interest this kind of group would have in that.”