Ainsley sat back against the arm of the couch again. He wasn't trying to make the poor bloke nervous. He just let Mason continue to do his own tending, and cast about for something to say.
"Yeah. I dont-- That's crap, mate. I'm sorry." He stood then, moved into the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels and duct tape he used to patch the holes in his mattress. He came back with it all and set it on the coffee table.
"We can improvise?" he offered. "And I'll be right back with a clean shirt." He couldn't really afford to lose any clothes, but he reckoned Mason needed it right now more than he did. And, well, he needed Mason to change shirts.