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Ever took the hand, let Jake haul him up to stand, and for just a moment he was quiet: assessing the damage, trying to figure out if it was superficial or something deeper, confirming that, yes, his unsummoned weapon had been at the small of his back, probably just to be contrary. Carefully, he lifted up the hem of his shirt, and on his side there was a nasty bruise -- but it was just a bruise. Nothing like the hook-shaped tearing scar on his abdomen on the other side.

"...I think I'm okay. The shields here catch the worst of it." And something else, that he chewed on and then decided not to say, blinking up at Jake with a brief flash of a smile. "I'm tougher than I look. You do hit like a son of a b***h though..."

He offered a hand to shake. Agreeable. Unconcerned, it seemed, by his loss.

Maybe, in this case, he should have held back, because Ever's expression flickered -- that seemingly-unwavering good cheer suddenly, well, wavering. He shrugged it off, but tipped his head down to root around for his pack of cigarettes...

And blew out a sigh when he found it slightly crushed, not very well off. He could rescue one or two out of it, probably, but it was about time to go shopping again. He shook his head as he settled one, just a bit crooked between his lips.

"Bad choices. Thanks for the spar. Maybe once I have a bit more experience, I'll give it another whirl..."