Kaito reflexively lets go of the gun about the time his wrist starts to get twisted painfully, he'd known he wouldn't be able to keep it anyway.

"Who's struggling?" Kaito asks, forcing his words not so slur though his ears were still ringing from the concussion Sora had almost managed to give him. He reaches up and brushes hair away from his face, wishes irrationally that he still carried something to tie it back with. Fucking wind bastard. "You're the one who can't even keep a man on a bed. How are your legs?"