Oh. There's a pivot here that he didn't see coming. And maybe that's stupid of him (wow what a shocker). Suddenly there's, what, fucking concern? What's with the scrutiny? Hadn't been there when they started scuffling, that's for sure.

"I know I'm in goddamn New York City," he says sullenly, withdrawing his supportive hand. "I'm here on purpose."

On a stupid purpose, but it beat trying to hitchhike to LA, he figures. He doesn't owe anyone any answers. Definitely not the guy that tried to turn his face into ground beef. "Just meant I'm not gonna tell anyone. Cuz nothing happened, see?" Their faces tell different stories, but that's not the point. The point is, no narcing. Snitches get stitches and whatnot. "You got a fastball to the face. I'm the dumb bastard that ran right into a pole not looking where he was going. Whatever stories you wanna go with."