"Fine. Whatever," he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I get it. You don't want me giving a shit," he snaps, hating that he actually does care, and he's hit that place where he oversteps his bounds and he's pissed off someone else that way.

He gestures with his hands still up. "Go on. I'll follow you," he says. "Make sure you don't pass out. Not another word though worrying about you," he says, figuring any minute she was going to hit him.