Charlie tucks his arm round her shoulders automatically because at the root of things, he's a biddable sort of man. He jams the heel of his other hand against the hood (because there's no way she's getting him very far) and rocks back up to his feet. "I don't think it's that bad." Feeling his way around the fender and open passenger door - there's a lot of weight there in how his steps sway, the line of his shoulders. He steadies himself against the door, wavering. "Yeah see, not so terrible." Though he's pretty damn ginger about folding himself into the passenger seat. It isn't until Chloe's heading back to the driver's side that he picks at his shirt: peeling it away from his belly and-- alright yeah that's a bit of blood.