He could turn and show her his back—replacing the missing staples is still an unfinished item on his to-do list, and it will stay one until he decides it's worth dealing with any of the doctors or scientists on the ship—but that would be needlessly flashy. It would also be awkwardly delayed, given that he's distracted by the tags, almost involuntarily. (A quick glance at the name. It doesn't mean anything to him. He might not remember it later.)

So he turns his forearm toward her instead, with its blackened needle marks, and then gestures close to the bloodless puncture wound on his ribs, where Odessa stabbed him while she was sleepwalking.

They could almost be scabs, but, "Permanent," he explains. "I'm undead."

And he's used to head games, too, technically, except the head games worked so well he doesn't realize that's what they were. He still sympathizes, though.

"I'd like to talk to you sometime," he goes on, "when we're not—" Another gesture at their shared state of undress. They also share a history of slaughter, if he's remembering right, even if his destruction occurred on a much smaller scale than Rey's. "If you wouldn't mind."