He sits, as instructed, and leans forward a little in the chair to scrub a hand over his face - his good 'hand', so to speak - before he settles back, shifting his gun belt on his hips just slightly to get comfortable.

Everytime he moves his left arm, he cringes slightly, but he sets his jaw and keeps his mouth shut from yelping.

"Appreciate you takin' a look, Miss," he says quietly, voice just a bit tight.