She orders her fingers to stop moving. They don't. It gets worse instead, more erratic (I'm starting to think you like getting beat up in alleys), to the point where she thinks she might have to physically stop them with the metal arm.

He's bleeding. She's finally spotted where it's coming from, knows there's definitely more now than there was minutes ago. Injuries don't matter to them unless they will get in the way of following orders, and there are no orders to follow. But it matters to her.

A moment after her fingers finally still, she pulls off her jacket and quickly strips the pockets. It's a hell of a lot cleaner than his clothes are right now, so she figures it'll work all right to staunch the blood flow. She wipes a knife against her pants to clear it off a little before looking at him. "Stay still."

It doesn't occur to her to warn him she's planning to cut away the cloth around the gunshot wound. They don't receive warnings.