Mac scowled like a child at Topher when he moved her hand away. She wasn't going to mess up anything. It was the lightest touch she'd ever give and it was because she was touching her bruised self. But Topher was "the doctor" so he knew best, right? Mac hissed a bit when Topher's finger touched the broken rib. She was watching everything he was doing, something she had done since she was a kid, watching the doctors as they did what they did even when they gave her shots, that way she could actually know when the prick was as opposed to when they said prick and then the pain was a half a second later, it usually freaked out some doctors to be under such scrutiny, but Mac couldn't help it. Even if she wasn't Mac, second-in-command of the Chets and former leader of the Tres 60, she still would have watched what Topher was doing, she grew up doing it.
So, when he touched the broken rib, she saw which one it was. "That hurts," she stated flatly, not threateningly. She was becoming too tired and more aware of her pain to threaten and demand. Mac nodded her acknowledgment of the stethoscope. "You didn't answer," she reminded, "How long do you think it will take to heal?" Mac needed to know how long she'd be "out of it" and start figuring out a plan to keep people under her thumb without having to carry out threats.