That's dumb as hell. Sometimes you need a doctor or an ambulance. Like, the one you'll probably need to call when my leg goes septic.

Unless you plan on letting it rot off as penance.

[ Which he guesses is what they're aiming for, since it's been days, he's filthy, and it's all oozing and gross, much like his arm. Regardless of the plan, it hurts, it's gross, he's gross.

He'd say he smells, but everything in here smells, so it's hard to really say if it's him, personally, or if it's his poo bucket, or something else best not named. ]

You could just let me shower. [ But he holds his hands out anyway with a sigh, because arguing has gotten him nowhere. ]