He stares down at his cast--which is littered with little doodles and signatures and messages from people who's come to visit--and plucks at a loose thread on the couch as he grits his teeth, trying to bite back any smartass comments that come to mind. "I was almost done with it before you came in, I wouldn't have broken anything. Maybe the lightbulb." He knows Kate has been working her ass off between dealing with him and getting ready to start a new job, and he really does appreciate every second of her time but he's starting to feel like he's becoming a burden to his girlfriend and his best friend, and it's more than a little damaging to his ego. He's never been a particularly patient person so the fact that he has to wear this cast--he can't even remember for how long. Kate and Chuck would know, but he's already plotting to pry it off himself anyway--is infuriating, especially because it means he can't do simple things like change a goddamn lightbulb.

And now he's pissed her off even more, which is awesome, great, fantastic, he doesn't even know how to fix it because every time he thinks he's feeling better, he remembers that he nearly got ended by some asshole who couldn't figure out how not to hit a person in a crosswalk, and he gets worked up all over again.

He pats the space on the couch next to him, hoping she'll come over to sit even though he can't really bring himself to look her in the eye right now. He wants to say so much but he can't stop the thoughts racing through his mind, can't settle on even a short list of things, so he ends up letting out a mumbled, "Thanks."