It sounds like the perfect solution to his ills, but who is Nate to argue with a priest? He smiles a little when Marcus says he looks like shit, though it ends up more of a grimace when the pain blossoms at the movement.

"Word of advice," he starts, glancing over, "don't get in a fight with one of those superpowered types." He doesn't know what that guy was exactly, but his bones were like steel and punching him had felt like punching a wall. The fist that connected with his face had a strength behind it that shouldn't have been possible in a man, but he'd thrown it like it was nothing. He must have known exactly what was going to happen as soon as he started in with the goading, and Nate should have known better than to fall for it.

But it's not the worst thing that's ever happened to him. He just needs to get home, bandage his hand, get ice on his face and probably drink until he can't feel it anymore.