"You're not putting me out," he murmured, trailing after Tris, "If you wanted me to. I mean, if you'd just rather not have my hands on you, that's fine. Not sure I want to be compared to Madame Wolffe's anyways."
And really, he probably couldn't compare, skill-wise; he wasn't a trained professional, after all. Just some bloke offering to help out. Or not. Whichever.