"Thank God you didn't kiss her, then," Martin murmurs, and it's obvious that he, too, is trying for a joke, but he doesn't really have his heart in it. "But yeah, I remember her. Or the group, really." Not that Martin had been obsessively listening and re-listening to what tapes of Jon's were easily findable in the Archives or anything like that. (Spoilers: he absolutely was.)

"It's probably... way too late for any burn spray, it's just a regular injury now. Really wish I could convince you to go to the hospital, but I've got the feeling you're too stubborn for that, so..." He sighs and leans up, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I got salve and bandages so we can at least keep it clean while it heals."