Considering the way he melted into it like that, from somebody who isn't even a somebody and went about it very weird and awkwardly, yeah, sorry man, you needed it. Soldat doesn't challenge it, though, they just step back, take a couple breaths, and let the metal arm ripple through a hard, noisy recalibration. "I can offer my last couple of cookies," they say then. "Or some illusion alcohol that I don't think I smashed all of, back at what this fucking place tried to tempt me with. Or we can try and move on."