Oliver paused, squeezing Jean's hands in his own. Perhaps the only things on the man that didn't ache now. "I don't..." He bit his lip. "I don't want to hurt you. No more than you are already. Maybe... when you think I should hear it." He looked up, pressing his forehead against Jean's so he could focus on the man, and not the injuries. The injuries were temporary, and would go away soon enough, would be hidden with a little makeup if he didn't want to see them. He closed his eyes, burning the image of Jean's hazel gaze into his mind. "But I'd love to fix your fiddle. If you have some sealant, and a little paint for me... I can fix the crack and handle the dent and maybe I won't ruin it." He winced at the thought. Oliver didn't think himself the best artist, but he felt acceptable.

"And while I do, you can clean yourself up... get rid of the... stink of that officer." He growled at the though, could barely stand to imagine what the man had done to Jean. And it was legal. All of it. Horrible.