"A monkey arm would be great right now." He grumbled easily, not deterred in the least by the remark. After years with his own cankerous doctor by his side, insults like that slide off his back easier than water on oiled skin.

"Know where I could get one?" And he's oh so tempted to point out that that hairy arm could damn well be mistaken as one, but he's here to get his back scratched, not make enemies.

"It's right...here." And he turns just enough for the other man to see fingers flailing against his back, trying to inch up to the spot right between his shoulders where the itch taunts him. He's moments away from trying to find a wall with an actual sharp corner to it to rub up against.