"No, I think I've got it handled, unless you have something that can reduce a fever." He wipes the knife connected to his metallic hand against his pants, the blood coming off in dark smears. He'd use something else if he had it, but better dirty clothes than his cybernetics fall to rust or gum up. He seems very calm, somewhat cold even; if he's the one with the fever, he shows absolutely no sign of it.

"Are you alright? Any injuries?"