He frowns, not quite threatening- more warning than anything. "Word of advice, Murph? If it can hurt me, you can't handle it." And that's all the answer he's going to give on the subject. He raises an arm to look at the gash, frowning at it like one might frown at something weird that's trying to crawl up your leg as opposed to a wound that would be fatal on any other person.

"Huh," he notes, far too casually. "I thought somethin' felt weird after that fourth stained glass window."

He could be kidding. He's probably not.