"Yes, yes, you're very pretty." He's heard that joke, or something like it, a whole lot since he left Eloe - nothing shuts it down like a blithe, practiced reply.

(It shuts him down too, when he needs it - sometimes a teenage disaster bi really needs a moment to find his focus. This is not one of those times, but nonetheless.)

He takes a look at those wounds and sighs. "And on that note, the shirt, too. I do not want to heal fabric into an open wound."