He's aware, if the flat look he aims at the doctor is any indication. Shock can affect him, but it requires much, much more effort - if he's gotten this close, he must have misjudged his injuries.

He coaxes his heart rate into something slow and steady - slower than a human could manage - taking as breathes as deeply as he can with a punctured lung. The cuts on his hands and neck have already closed, the more superficial ones already nothing more than red and angry-looking lines. The same, he knows, is happening internally, but severe damage requires more time. Time, and fuel, and sleep - all three of which he's lacked these past days.

"I'll heal," he eventually replies. It's dismissive, but not unduly so - it's a rare injury that he can't recover from.