The shears didn't go all the way through, but Carlisle can still feel them pressing against his front from the inside, the pain having not yet ebbed away in its entirety. It flares again as his layers come off, but aside from a hiss and a pained expression, he keeps any and all complaints he may have to himself. Glacius' worry is evident; he doesn't want to worry the alien any more.

And so he does as he's asked, leaning down on the couch before turning into his front. The wound on his back is sealed shut with fresh skin, but the purple, bruised coloration of it is probably unsettling.

"I'll be fine," he repeats, more for himself than for Glacius.