"Christ, that's cold." He mumbled, glancing at you as you dragged yourself out of bed. After a mission gone wary you'd lost limbs, become reclusive. David tried to be patient, he knew he was insufferable sometimes as well. He kept his gaze off the empty bottles that littered your floor. His comment had been in reference to your prosthetic metal arm which you were using to hold onto him while you tried to stand on your new leg. "Need me to walk you to the bar? Wet your beak or somethin?"