"Got hit," he says, even though that much is obvious. It's his own fault for getting himself into that kind of situation in the first place. He should have walked away, he'd meant to walk away, but he'd just been so goddamn smug and the second he hit something of a nerve the writing was on the wall. Sully taught him better than that, he thinks, but all it took was a moment and Nate was twenty goddamn years old again, spoiling for a fight.

"Doesn't matter who," he tells her, shaking his head. He can see her itching to go and do something about it, but he's not about to send her into that guy's path. He's not human, and Nate's not convinced that Lila and all her knives could make a scratch on him. Besides which, it was only a punch. Nate's pissed off and he wants retaliation but Lila wants blood, and it doesn't call for that.

She presses against his stomach and he waves her away. His ribs are fine. "Lila, 'm fine," he mutters, shrugging her off.