A stare. He's an author not a— And then it clicks and he throws his hands up. In fact there is a distinct moment of him graphically strangling air. Jack left before he was discharged and received home care instructions. Of course he did.

"Sit on the couch. Right now. I have to make a call."

And that's how fifteen minutes later Jack's wound is cleaned and dressed in fresh bandages and Tony is wrapping up a conversation on the handheld smooshed between his ear and his shoulder. "So we just put a trash bag over it. Unhunh. Got it. Thanks Yvonne. Couldn't put my pants on without ya."

Hanging up he looks at Jack. There is no way this arrangement is going to last a week. Hell they'll probably kill each other within the space of a few days. "You better not be looking at me expecting a spongebath."

Stating for the record here.