Honestly, she really hadn't been thinking properly when she'd brought the bloody motorcycle. Every tiny little imperceptible move made her worry he was in pain. Or made her squirm because he was touching her, his arm holding to her just tightly enough to not fall off, and she could swear that he was avoiding any unnecessary contact.
"Movies?" she queried, her eyebrow cocked at the idea. "Are you mad? You're bleeding on me, barely conscious it seems, and in massive sodding pain and you want to talk about movies?" And all at once she realized he was probably trying to distract himself as well as her from his pain and injury. Fine then, so be it.
"Honestly, I haven't seen anything lately. Just the films about me that we've watched back at the flat. What about you, Spiderman? Are you caught up on the films about you?"