Joe's holding on real tight, that's for sure. Drake can feel the bones in his wrist creak under the pressure, but isn't intending to wrench his arm away at first. He was going to try to soothe Joe, who'd seemed fairly coherent a moment ago, reassure him of their intentions but then his other arm starts moving. There's just something wrong about the motion, the way it bends, but before Drake can react much it's speeding at Peter's head and nope. N O P E sorry Joe, you don't attack his little bro.

He trusts Peter to let go and dodge as he stands up and yanks his own arm back hard, the sharp movement designed to pull Joe off balance and throw off his aim. Or rather, his arm's aim, because Joe doesn't even seem to be focused enough on Peter to grab his face and yet. It's like something else is controlling the ruined limb.

"Hey, don't!" If Joe doesn't respond or if that grasping black hand makes contact, he's going to get kicked back with as much force as Drake can manage, but he'd rather not have to attack... your move, Joe.