Not feeling judged it...helps. That's the only word he has for it, because it doesn't fully ease that rise of anxiety he's realizing that he started to feel when it came to looking well, weak, in the moment. He tends to judge his progress harshly when it comes to making his strides to become 'normal' - whatever the hell that meant. His barometer for normal is broken, he's pretty damn sure of that because even just one thing that's happened in his long life would barely be a drop in the bucket when it came to weird shit.

So the edges of his mouth turn up, just a little, in a smile that can only be seen as grateful. He can accept that grace she gives him and not make a disparaging comment about himself because she's not judging him. If she's not judging, then doesn't have a reason to do it himself to deflect his own feelings for a change.

He hears the shift in her position on the couch, so it causes him to turn his head a little to look at her for a moment before shaking his head. "Now I see you wanted the whole couch to yourself." His tone isn't disgruntled nor does it hold any bite to it, it holds amusement because he's happy sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. This works better for him. "Guess you'll have to show me one of 'em later, so I can see how bad this guy is as a spy. Although with some of the stuff that happens to us and the people we know, maybe I'm onto something with him being inspired by real life."