Every now and then he looks at Addie, his eyes fixing on her arm, telling himself to insist helping her bandage it once she is done. And clean it, which is an unbelievably new concept for someone who has just a vague understanding of how to properly treat wounds. Because he doesn't care how many ugly scars he walks around with, but he doesn't think that someone like her should have any and even though he knows that she is more than capable there is nothing that can change his way of thinking.
"Reckon I just got the kind of face that makes people wanna stab me," he quips, face not indicating any reaction to the needle whatsoever. Someone that takes a punch to the face without flinching will definitely not do that when a tiny little needle involved, never mind the fact that he really, really doesn't like them. He listens to her talk with his eyes close, and he has to try to keep still when silent laughter tries to shake his whole body. "Yeah, we do tend to get holes pretty damn often. Again with the faces."
Then she has to mention the messages. The one that he gave Lita for her when he was so damn certain he wouldn't get out of that place, that they would never see each other again. He knew she would figure it out, like she always does, and the way he tries to look at her without looking like he is looking, from the corners of his eyes, is a telltale sign that he is flying head first into a class a panic. "With all the hits I got to my head she probably assumed head trauma," he mutters, eyes decidedly cast aside, but there is just a hint of something akin to a smile in them. Because he never would have admitted to it if he hadn't thought he would die, just like the kiss maybe never would have happened if they hadn't been drowning, but he knows that she has figured him out a long time ago and... it's not so bad, once he gets past the inwardly hyperventilating.