There was a moment of hesitation at the metal arm, if only because of what it reminded him of. But he ultimately squelched it down and took his hand, knowing better than to judge someone just because of a robotic limb. It was a gut reaction really, thirteen years of conditioning against an opponent that seemed all but invincible. But he couldn't really afford to act like this, especially with his body in the condition that it was.

"Camp... might be good..." He panted, leaning against Shiro. He might not have had any visible wounds, but he certainly felt like his muscles were turned into ground beef. "Before this, I was... fighting. I thought maybe I got better when I woke up, but..." A soft chuckle. Mirthless, hollow. "Maybe not."