"It's nothing," Geddoe grunted. It didn't hit his dominant sword arm, that was more important to him. The vest Edna had made him before the Mexico mission had probably taken its final limit of lead, it was made well but there were only so many bullet holes it could sport before becoming useless. "I'll be fine," he assured Jack, raising his head. "What about us? Are we all accounted for? All objectives?"