His eyes narrow and his jaw sets. Cheap fucking shot, asshole.

But it gets him what he wants and Leonard rolls his eyes as he marches into the kitchen and carefully tugs his shirt over his head. There's a rainbow of bruises, in varying degrees of healing because, hey, it's not like this is a once in awhile thing. His ribs might be bruised, but otherwise his story checks out. "See, fine."

All his attitude aside, he actually doesn't hate that Mick gets so insistent about these things. But he also doesn't really know how to handle people caring about him. Too used to dealing on his own.