Rhys has already opened his mouth to reply, when slowly, and visibly, realisation breaks across his face.

"Okay. Right."

He brings his hand up to drag it down over his eyes, chest suddenly, stupidly tight.

"Would you help me-- I know I'm basically asking you to break a bunch of connective tendons that I'll need to fix later, but I need to get this thing off for a bit."

He's mentally charting how mand surgeries, how much longer he'll need to wait before his arm actually works again, and whether he can deal with the weight just dragging down unsupported for that long.