It wasn't stubbornness, even. He didn't move, other than his eyes following her every motion. His face was... neutral. He was watching, and listening, but the actions - they weren't about him. (They were never going to be about him.) She had a task, and assignment for him.

When she was ready, she would get to it. He could wait until then. (Something was not right about this, but he couldn't remember what. There was so much he couldn't remember...)

By this point, the burning heat in his mouth was nothing but a memory, stored with the rest of the pain he'd known and filed away for further reference. There was no judgment in watching her, no question. Only readiness, in case there's more pain coming, and readiness to do what the next mission is.

Nothing but waiting.