He made a soft, affirmative noise in lieu of offering her a you're welcome and shifted away from her, no longer content to sit in the sea of red they'd left smeared on the carpet. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it back in spite of the sticky mess of ruined hair gel and blood, then gave up on it, getting to his feet a little uncertainly. He might have been whole again, but he was exhausted and starving now, and it showed in the way he moved.

Gesturing towards Angela, he shifted towards the door. "If you want that, be my guest. Just do it quick." Brain cells were the first to die, after all -- it was why he generally didn't waste time when he had the top of someone's head off -- and in his estimation, she had about three minutes or so before she wouldn't be able to find Angela's ability. If what remained of her head wasn't completely useless already. "I'm going to go take a shower. I can borrow some of Peter's clothes."

Or, well, assuming he re-shifted into him, anyway -- he'd reclaimed his own face involuntarily when he'd let Gabriella cut into him.