[He flinches as Chris touches his shoulders -- it's more of a natural reaction than from any actual discomfort -- and takes another step away, words spilling from his mouth as fast as the ink is.]

I'm fine, I promise. I'm not hurting, it's —[cough]— inconvenient is all. Stains the tabard sometimes. Nothing to worry about. Just don't want to get it everywhere. Mess to clean up.

[Though as he coughs, he does see that Chris is on his feet. Impressive for a guy who, only a short while before, couldn't hardly lift his leg.]

Looks like your leg is work —[a cough, a heavier cough, painful hacking, and up comes the rest of the blockage, enough to fill up half the jar]— wo- working.