Suppressing a growl as yet another pain made itself known to him (this time in his leg), Kimbley clenched his jaw and ignored the various complaints his body was providing him with. Just pain, nothing important. Nothing vital had been punctured yet.

"If you think so," he hissed, fingers curling and uncurling against his palms. "But you seem to forget that I was a soldier as much as I was an alchemist. I could still blow you into a million, bloody pieces and leave you a smear on the floor ... it'd just take a little more work." He let his grimace jerk sharply into a smirk, albeit a pained one. "I didn't always have the tattoos."