She rolled her eyes when he said he could walk on his own, though she wasn't particularly surprised. Still, she kept half an eye on him as they moved down the corridor, making sure he didn't collapse. A fall could jar loose the knife in his shoulder. With his shirt off, she could really admire her handiwork, especially the letters carved into his chest deep enough to scar. "Don't use a dermal re-generator on the scars," she instructed in a low, soft voice. "Or I'll just have to replace them." As they walked, she made sure to glower at anyone in their path. Most people scurried out of their path. A few ensigns even tripped over their own feet trying to get out their way.