[ She can't help but smile, shaking her head a little as she ties off his ribs. She's picked up on his nature, the intense, closed-off facade. It's not the most unfamiliar thing in the world to her -- emotionally constipated men are a dime a dozen, really. Let her guess, huge immature blow-ups when he's frustrated or angry? Yeah. No man is ever truly as special as he thinks.

It doesn't mean she doesn't think it's funny. She thinks it's very funny, for it to be so hard to accept the idea of... friendship? What kind of fucked up world would make him think that you can't count on people who have, without permission usually, planted themselves in your life? She would hope that if she stumbled onto his front door, bleeding, he wouldn't just tell her to fuck off. Christ. ]

What's there to thank me for? Basic human decency? You needed help, I can help. Where I'm from, you help your friends. That's all. [ She looks back up at his face and pats his upper arm. ] You gonna be able to sleep? I got somethin' if you want it all to just go away until the morning.