[ Angela would always catch him. She'd been forced to learn his "language" when he had attempted to hide his pains or skip out on physical therapy, or he didn't follow recommended care. Genji may have given her his fair amount of grief, but he had still been dear to her. He was still her friend. Her arms slip from about his shoulders and she draws back from the hug to seat herself back on her stool with her hands in his, hearing the fondness in his voice as he speaks of her. ]

I'm as stubborn as ever, no? Though I promise I'm not immortal; I've changed a little.

[ She had lost people dear to her, after all. And she had some part to play in what Gabriel is now. Six years away from her loved ones, minimal contact, Jesse having left her without a trace. They're not easy things to recover from, but she had done her best. Sometimes that's all one can do. His further reassurance that he's doing well and that he's happy is a balm, and her smile only widens and warms further, squeezing him right back. ]

All right, if we must. May I get your helmet and chestplate off?

[ Her hands slip from his and she moves to wash her hands, don gloves, and get everything needed for a very routine run of his vitals. Listen to his breathing and his heart, get his blood pressure, check for any damage from the pressure and arrival— any damage to his ears or burst vessels in his eyes, then check his limbs over and ensure no fine damage was hindering his processing or sense of touch. ]