He tries not to grimace. All the survival training in the world won't help much if the arena decides to toss flaming projectiles at them - that's the thought he's stuck in when she thanks him for saving her life and apologizes. His brow starts to furrow, but then he lets out a huff, as though he just thought of something vaguely funny, and the tension in his expression begins to fade.

"Sorry for startling you." The jumpsuit sleeves took most of the bites and scratches, even with his immune system dampened he's not likely to end up with an infection. A pause, then in a more serious tone - "You should aim to hit higher, if you need to."

He presses a finger into a soft spot on his throat. Sensitive places.