The creaking sound of metal alerts him to a threat he overlooked. Aka, Neil Park's inhuman strength, currently focused enough on not moving that the gurney decides to move instead. The wish to comfort vanishes in an eyeblink--nothing other than getting this over with would be something like comfort.

"Sorry, Neil," Alex murmurs, reaching the kid's forearm before retracting it back to work. The skin, thinner than anywhere else on the body, mostly stays where he leaves it, folded along itself. It's fine. It's enough. He doesn't need to do surgery here, just--

"I have to reset the bone," he says, voice tight and angry. "Going to have to do a bit more first. You still going to be able to bear it? Say the word and you don't have to be conscious for this."