"It's strange, but then, what's not strange around here?"

There's a long pause as he bandages her arm as best as he can. It's not a professional job, by any means, but it should staunch the bleeding, at least. He wonders why he'd said what he'd just said -- it is strange, and it's stranger than normal, and usually, he wouldn't be so dismissive of it.

After he finishes bandaging her arm, he finally gets the chance to look around, taking stock of the damage that mechanical thing had done. He's afraid the next part will be unpalatable to her, but there's no way around it. "Now that they're... dealt with," he says, waving a hand vaguely, "we need to get our products back."

There's no sense in leaving what drugs they'd already exchanged with the dead bodies, after all. Dead bodies have no use for heroin, but their live clients very much do, and though this had been the exact definition of a deal gone bad, he's not prepared to abandon the drugs, assuming they've not covered in blood, that is. He fully anticipates, however, that she may not want to go through the dead mens' pockets -- it's not a particularly pleasant task.