Erik is actually relieved to see Pyotr flop down and then curl up into a defensive ball. That's one problem taking care of itself right now.

Poor Artemy, on the other hand...

"I'm all right," he insists, hurrying to Artemy's side and dropping to one knees. "Here, look." He yanks the knife from his flank and then jerks his shirt open, buttons flying all over, to show Artemy the wound. It's already mostly healed, the skin knitting itself back together in real time.

"It's okay. You see? No damage done. Steady now."