Jaeger lets out his breath, all but deflating as he sits down with his hands held out carefully in front of him. He doesn't bolt, just stares at the bloody mess of his gloves for a minute while Donna arms herself with disinfectant and bandages and other necessities.

The scissors make him flinch just a bit, though. Shiny steel puts him on edge, and rather than let her near with them, he simply nods and starts peeling the bloody canvas away from his skin.

"I can take them off." It's almost belated, because he's already moving to do exactly that, but he barely winces as the cloth comes free. It can't be pleasant with the wounds that are unveiled, but he does it anyway and holds the gloves up when he's done.

"They need to be burned," he says quietly. He's coming back to himself, slowly, and of course, the first thing that comes to mind? Safety. Dealing with any little traces or trails that he might leave behind in his distress, things that could be used against him.

Finally, he holds his hands out, carefully, gingerly, and his blue-gray eyes flicker to Donna's for just a moment, really registering her presence. He's still scared, still achingly brittle, but he's coming back, slowly. Logic and reason are somewhere within calling distance, and that's an improvement.