There was blood dripping down his arm at this point. It was pooling on the floor under him and staining the sleeve of his shirt. Normally, he wouldn't have cared - blood was blood, it was red, it meant everybody was going to die the same way regardless of who or what they were - but he knew that if he lost too much of it (and the fact that Greed had five carbon-edged claws digging into him at the moment), he'd start losing coherency. And damn it all, but he wasn't going to let that happen.

"So what if I'm a rat?" Kimbley let himself smirk again, wider than before now that the pain was fading out of his immediate attention. "You knew I what I was when you found me, and you still trusted me enough to show me exactly where your skull was. Doesn't make much in the way of an argument for you."