Tommy puts a hand over his face and exhales. "Yeah. Could you get the f'rst aid kid from the bathroom?" he asks, somewhat muffled. "I'm better stocked than the Red Cross. Burn cream, bandages, whatever. Just bring the whole thing over."

But before he sends him off to fetch all that, he speaks up again. "And uh..." Tommy trails off, uncertainly. "Thanks, Boone. The shades are nice." A claw fidgets with a stray thread in the sofa upholstery as he glances down, slightly embarrassed. "You didn't have to do that."