[ Angela feels it bubble up anyway, that self-deprecating amusement to match her gentle prod, the faintest twitch of his shoulderblades beneath her hand and the contraction of his diaphragm, even if nothing escapes him. Not even a huff of air, bitten back down. His physique is the most obvious to her, the outward hurt visible versus the inner, which she can only read off of him in bits and pieces.

Shards of glass she likely shouldn't be picking up with her bare hands, but she wants to piece it back together and understand. ]

That bad, hm? Caloriemates and MREs I'm sure.

[ Nailed it in one, but the pass of her hands over his skin aren't judgmental no matter where he may have gone soft, nor does her tone belay anything negative. He survived. That was everything, that he had continued to eat at all and made it to this point. Hopefully nothing spoiled, nothing that'd ever made him ill. So she shifts the subject and listens to his answer, picking apart the spaces between his syllables for a better look at what he doesn't say. ]

No complications...? Lingering aches?

[ His lack of an answer on receiving any help leaves her brows pinching, giving him another little squeeze. It's in the past, now. He has her at the very least. There's not much else she can offer him besides her presence and her patience, the knowledge that he at least has sanctuary with her. She just wants a clear picture of where he stands, now. ]

I need to run some fluids for you. But... tell me a little more about the first few weeks...?

[ In detail, that seems to imply, because he'd skimmed over it so briefly before. She wants to know even if it will hurt, and she can already begin to imagine. ]