When the wind forces her ahead of her own steps, instinctively he holds one arm out so she doesn't fall and end up injured. Last thing he needs is a broken human slowing him down on their way, or any of the Winchesters hearing about how he hadn't helped their precious hunter-bartender when he could have.

He sort of regrets taking his hand away from his ears, though. Damn bloody siren's made his head feel like it might explode.

He scoffs and shakes his head a bit at the biting comment, so bitter, but he supposes for what little he knows of her, it's fitting enough. "It can't last forever." Mostly, he means the sounds, and maybe the wind that's cutting through to the bone the more it picks up and slicing through soaking wet clothing. He'll worry later about why he's feeling the cold so much anyway.