He would have done the same, he too would have unleashed a jet of fire in that stranger's direction. The Pitt. It's a mistake to mention the very name within the confines of the island but, at the same time, it was a choice that gave a lot of insight. Bakugou wasn't quite sure if he believed Peppino's words, raising his ears when he hears the boy speak. The Reaver, whether it be a knack or a simple case of his mistrust in peoples' motives, always found it difficult to believe the kindness of others. Something about it made him crave the brutality of honest tones, sanguine eyes burning over their forms. Fire was dangerous and difficult to control. He knows that, but he wonders if Caesar too feels the thrill of using it, the sensation of being strong because his heart was so weak. Forget it. His mind has a tendency to wander, drift into the unknown, throw him into the sensation of being amidst a hurricane. He was afraid of letting his thoughts get too close because he knew it was in that mind that he felt most vulnerable, unsettled because he knew the kinds of emotions that will begin to overflow the moment his mind locks onto said path.

Observe. He's observed enough but his head remains unsure if he wants to diffuse the situation or ignite it further. Peppino was already hurt, trying to help the male visit the The Typhoon at the cost of blisters, imperfect skin. Diffusing it was not a part of his nature either but he knew it would continue to get out of hand if they kept acting with force, especially with Pincher's child acting against what the rest of them thought was best. Caesar and Goldenluxury, however, were both his superiors, the ragdoll anxious for their reactions. "He says he's from that shithole, Pipsqueak. No one's gonna trust him no matter what you say," Bakugou says. There's no growl that leaves his maw. Perhaps all the negative energy was being drained by him after watching all the aggression which was enveloping the other pirates. He wouldn't be fond to see the Captain's reaction when he saw that his son had been burned in the process of a careless attempt at removing a Pittian. "Pipsqueak," the ragdoll begins again, thoughts gathering, "As much as you want him the stay, you've seen how everyone's reacted and it's goin' to stay that way for a while. No one wants anythin' to do with The Pitt after all those captures and especially after what they did to Goldie. He ain't gettin' any peace and quiet here."

His eyes waft towards the stranger yet again, name unknown to the Reaver. A shuddered sigh escapes his lips. "If this had been under different circumstances, I might 'ave backed you up because no spy would openly admit themselves a Pittian after what happened between us. But I can't bring myself to want to tolerate your presence here either because it turns out they have a big enough brain to be manipulative bastards. Even if you're tellin' the truth, your still goin' to continue to be unwelcomed if let in and chased out," he says, trying not to tangle his words. His own chest felt tight, uncomfortable because he didn't like trying to act in a civil manner. This, however, was necessary. He needed to balance. To be frank, he wished Luciferus was here to calm things down while still getting the job done. "And if you truly care about that boy than you'll know that it's best you fuck off before he gets any more hurt than he already is." Bakugou bites his lip, seeing the way the male was rummaging his belongings for the child. He remembers aloe vera, the name of the plant for burns - it had such a distinctive sound that he couldn't just forget it.

He doesn't say anything about the foreigner's desire to treat the wound on Peppino, deciding not to step in and tell the male 'no'. His brain...hurt. He would rather the decision to be left to someone else because he knew that Junji was overworked but was plagued by his distrust of the other, unsure if the man would only cause further harm to the child or leave Pip better off. "You should hurry up."