"Of course," Drake didn't even pretend to not know what Sanzo meant by his gun, nor where it was. He reached up Sanzo's sleeve and retrieved the small but deadly weapon before he started rolling the arm-warmer down. The Healer did this without hiking the robe's sleeve up. He just seemed to already know where the top of the damn thing was and how to remove it.

Only once the arm-warmer was off completely, baring Sanzo's palm, did he press the pistol into his hand. The correct way, of course.

"Just don't shoot me until I've fixed you up, hm?" Any emergency war-healer could indulge in a little gallows humor, now and then. "My Healing Gift relies on my health. I don't know what's blocking it right now, but extra ventilation is unlikely to help."

He found a shorter but sturdy limb in reach, and lined it up with Sanzo's broken arm. Best to splint this, and then the rest to immobilize that shattered elbow. The arm-warmer was put to swift use. Drake's ability with knots and bindings was often considered impressive. It was a familiarity far more ingrained than his knowledge of Sanzo garb.

So, too, was his expertise in medicine. Sanzo's arm was only moved a fraction of an inch as he worked.