I offer it without looking up, because I'm in the middle of a stitch and his arm moving suddenly cost me four seconds I'd like to get back. I wait for him to settle before I continue, the needle finding the edge of the wound again.
"You did, actually. Twice."
I glance up briefly when he mentions feeling dizzy, trying to make out what I can from his expression. I can't see much, but he's pale around the edges and lucid enough. And since he's already refused the hospital before I could mention it, I can guess he's been in this situation before. Or a similar one.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to force you to go anywhere."
Back to the stitches. Three more, probably, and we'll be done. The cut is fairly clean, which is the one good thing about all of this.
"Can you tell me what day it is?"