He looks at her hand as it pats him, a little furrow forming in his brow because the gesture is just... so foreign to him. He can't remember kindness, not in the way she offers it, and it takes all of his willpower not to jerk away from the unfamiliar sensation.

He rolls his eyes when she says she's not a fighter. "So I'll beat someone up an' you can heal 'em," he replies with a huff. Why are there so many healers on the train? And people that are just... generally soft. Nice, even. It makes no sense.