There's her hand. He looks down to it, a little fond, and turns his to squeeze back. He's not thinking about how at least one of them will have to die. True though it is, he's not about to go making that call for her. She's his teammate and his friend, and if circumstances were different, he'd be the one trying to help her.

He looks up at her question, then down to himself. "Nn..." His voice is stuck between consideration and a whine. Everything hurts still, even if it's not near as bad. "My leg? It's not broken?"

It was very broken before, and he still remembers the agony of trying to drag himself in the heavy, white outer suit.