[The wounds close: Owen can *feel* that, and it's creepy as all hell. But he ignores the crawly growing sensation, instead reaching up-

-and ruffling Ken's hair. He doesn't realize he's rubbing blood in there, oops.]

Hey... it's okay. Remember, I look too good to die.

[The joke, lame as it was, was spoken with a soft concerned tone.]

I'm alright... you're alright. He's gone. You can stop... you did good.