John nods, then sets about making himself at home. Putting on hot water to boil -- assuming they have to have tea, though if they don't he has some back at his tent he could fetch if necessary.

Fussing with the water and the kettle, it gives the pair of them as much privacy as he can. Watching out of the corner of his eye as Crowley (very tenderly, or so he notes) washes the dirt from the other man's face. Gentling his nerves as he works.

He's so busy trying not to pay attention to the pair of them that he almost doesn't catch Mr Fell's reference to himself. Glancing up from his mindless fussing and flashing the pair of them a pleasant smile.

"Oh," he says, unconsciously raising a hand to the bandaged arm. "There's no need to concern yourself with me. I've -- had worse." Which is probably not all that comforting, in the grand scheme of things.