[Absolutely not patronizing. He nods in thanks, happy to not run his little jig of self-sufficiency all the time. He's much better at the single-handed life now, far less clumsy and regaining deftness. But it's still awkward at times. He hates having to use his teeth for shit, or clutching things between his knees or under his elbow to hold them still. Lighting smokes isn't all that complicated but even so.]

That there isn't. [Oof. All too topical.] And I know that in all technicality, letting them go is a mercy. It's just sickening. The spectacle of it all...

[Preaching to the choir, there. His gaze flicks over as he takes a drag on his smoke, posting up adjacent to Fidelio.]

How's all the war wounds?