He relaxes a little in relief, nods and slips to get out the car. It's a good idea, and the prospect of painkillers sooner rather than later perks him up even.

"Good idea," he answers, and sticks close to his side as he begins to walk. He doesn't lean on him, partly because moving a hand to put weight on him at all might hurt and partly from pride. His legs work fine anyway, it's his upper body that hurts the most. He can do stairs. Even if he'd rather do sleep.