He tries to focus on his surroundings, on the sounds of the fight still going, on the throb of the wound — everything he knows to be real. If he closes his eyes... there's no guarantee that when he opens them again, it'll be to the same sight.

As soon as Cora is back, Law grabs Kikoku, and gestures to the contents of the first-aid kit he packed before they left.

"I need to stitch this," he says, gritting his teeth. "If I lose much more blood, I'll need a transfusion." And just trying to find someone with the same blood type as him would likely take too long.

So the gesture means: get me a needle and suture. (Absently, with his free hand, he swats at the air, at the flies that only exist in his head. He needs them to be quiet, for this.)

Then, without wasting any time, he creates a Room that covers only just them... and slices towards himself. The side of him that isn't bleeding out comes off cleanly: a thin piece of his own skin that he then moves with a flick of his fingers to stick over most of the wound, covering it and halting the blood flow temporarily.

.... it's probably good no one is watching this, because it's sure to look creepy as hell.

"There," Law sighs, slumping slightly, "that should buy me some time."