"Wonderful, your secret identity turns out to be a squirrel," Ryan commented dryly, when it was revealed that the girl lived in a tree house. As beautiful as the place was, he remained skeptical of its safety. And how the bloody hell they were supposed to get up there? Maybe her powers included blinking up high places, too? He for sure couldn't climb up a tree, or even some shaky stairs, right now. Well, he could push himself for the last, but he'd rather pass out at the bottom of tree then, to be honest.

Thankfully, there was also an elevator built in the whole thing. Although the man was not fooled and didn't even think it was meant to transport people. At least he wasn't some heavy weight wrestler or something. But each time the contraption swayed or stalled, his heart sunk a little lower. Or maybe it was his stomach. Ugh, heck, who cares. Either way, he tried to hold onto the corner branch without having it look like he was holding on for his dear life.

As he entered the house and was welcomed, Ryan nodded awkwardly. He didn't look too impressed, but to be absolutely honest... He was in awe and jealous. It might not be much, not a five start hotel or anything, but he had never been in one anyway and this was home, something he hadn't had since he was... What, 4 or 5? And goddamit, he felt out of place and like an intruder here. And wasn't he?

"It's, ah, nice," he commented, the sense of awkwardness was so thick you could practically cut it with knife, although he kept his face straight and only nervously tugged his earring once or twice, although the action made him wince in pain slightly due to the pain in his side. As instructed, he moved to the plush area and settled down, putting his bag by his side. He began retrieving various things from the bag and lining them up.

When Sophie returned and sat down across of him, he frowned at the girl. "Just eat something and go to sleep. I will fix myself up and be gone before you wake up tomorrow. Just need some place to crash for few hours is all." For a moment, the two had a staring contest which Ryan promptly lost when he sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing forehead with his left hand. "Fine, fine."

Taking out knife (which still had some of his own blood on it), he cut off what remained of his pant's leg on the injured leg, muttering something about it being 'ruined anyway', so all of the deep gashes and smaller cuts could be easily accessed. Pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt, he dropped them down on his left. His upper body could be described in few words: scars and muscles. Although he had been slowly regaining some weight that'd be fit for man of his age, muscles and bones was what made up nearly all of his mass still. And the scars - there were some on his arms, across chest, down his left ribs and another in his abdomen, in various phases of fading. If she was to see his back, it'd be littered in marks as if left by beating with something, but those looked very old. The most prominent of all, though, was what seemed to be mark from large bullet hole, going straight into his left upper arm. It couldn't be much older than a year, probably newer.

The wound in his side looked bad, but he knew no vital organ had been hit, so, it would heal well, hopefully, and he'd be all fine, especially if given chance to recover from blood loss. The leg looked worse, the bandage all bloody and once they were removed, they revealed a wound beneath jagged from the ferocious claws creating it. His face and arms also had many tiny cuts from the ice crystals, but he didn't care about those or multiple bruises forming on his body from fights and where his own force field kind of 'crashed' back into him under the force of attack thrown at it. "Are Cheetos also magical in your land or that's what you live off, kid?" he questioned, trying to do something about the awkwardness. He was not ashamed of his scarred and battered body, but it still felt weird to be half dressed and quite vulnerable here in front of her. Besides, she was still obviously and absolutely understandably wound up and nervous (maybe would be for years), so, he had to say something, didn't he?

Well, technically he didn't, but... Anyhow, he helped Sophie apply the medicine to his wounds and, if needed, stitched up any of his wounds, mostly in silence aside from few grunts, although he seemed to go even paler through the procedure than he was naturally and that's saying something. After, he simply wanted to crash and sleep, hopefully he'd wake up before her and have a chance to get lost, as he had promised her.