Reckon they've got it about right, but admitting you've got a problem is the first step, isn't it? [John keeps his tone light as he gently takes Fiver's wounded hand and turns it over for inspection. It's not going to need stitches, thankfully. He lets go of Fiver and searches his pockets until he comes up with a napkin. It's hardly much, but it will have to do for now. He folds it in half, then places it over the cut, pressing down. He motions for Fiver to take over with his other hand.]

Keep the pressure on this. Should stop bleeding in a moment. We need to find a clinic for you - the medical sort before the psychiatric. They hardly do any good for your sort of mad, anyway. Up you go now.