"No, no, no—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

MK, in his Mystic Monkey form, arms and feet clinging onto you like he was groveling for the worst. To him, it was, though. The boy wanted to show you the way he could morph into this new form of his, demonstrate some neat tricks, and now look where that got him—you getting a cut on your cheek. You don't remember how that scar appeared there, but the way he sounded lugubrious and agitated with the redundant amount of apologies he's blabbering over and over again, you're more than certain this would take a while before he could get over the accident.

"You're not hurt anywhere else, are you?" MK then proceeds to search you up and down. In a matter of minutes, you were being cosseted. "Agh! Okay, okay, no injuries—but I'm sure that cut on your cheek isn't anything major, right? Right?" The situation could have been facetious, yet you could do nothing but watch him fumble with his words. He's reaching his culpability as he tries to search for anything at all on you, no matter how frivolous it was. His furry appendage, now swishing behind him anxiously. 

"What do I do? What do I do? I'm not even sure if I did any internal damage on you withou—wait a minute, you have another bruise right here; where are these even coming from?!" Now he's getting a little fussy, blaming himself for his lack of control. The more he tries to convince himself you don't need to go to the hospital, the more perplexing all of this is. One could describe you as humane, so what does he have to worry about?

No, he knows how you are. But he's willing to stray away from his initial course—impressing you with his mad, new, and totally under his control powers—to aid you. After all, it's necessary if he wants you to live.