( the sound of his name (his other name) doesn't register until he can feel something wrapping around him, he turns violently at joker, thinking that he might be yet another enemy, thankfully he's not so far gone to strike against him when he recognizes him. he keeps standing there, breathing heavily, the grip on his sword is so tight it might hurt later, and he's shaking, even tho he doesn't feel it at the moment. )

You... ( his voice, raspy and low. all of that rage seems to be focusing back back on a single person, on joker. )

 You fucking idiot! Why did you turn your attention from your enemy! It could have killed you! I will not have that! I won't let it happen! ( and that's... the whole issue. crow's breathing, while still hard, begins to even some. ah... it sure feels like a huge weight has suddenly lifted off his shoulders, by simply saying that.

while it's hard to focus on anything else that's not that stupid face in front of him, his eyes diverge to joker's shoulder. he finally approaches him, with every step forward, his clothes go back to normal, he takes off his coat—which either he hasn't realized how badly stained it is or he simply doesn't care—only to bring it to that lacerated shoulder and help him apply pressure with the piece of cloth. )