Angela raises an eyebrow just slightly as Junkrat grabs the records out of her hand and shuffles through them, but he’s being careful enough with the pages and their organization, so she doesn’t make any real move to take them back. He seems approximately as confused by them as expected, although she’s not quite sure if his perplexed squinting is from lack of comprehension or from lack of trust.
“I say it precisely as though you are in my office every other day with some minor wound,” she laughs, softly. “We are a paramilitary organization, and you work on a regular basis with some very dangerous materials, to say nothing of your penchant for, ah...general chaos. I would say that your current rate of accidental injury is a very reasonable one.”
And then the file is being held out again. She takes it, takes a moment to neaten the papers just slightly before tucking it back into the crook of her arm. “Of course. I would expect nothing less,” is her unfazed response, even as Junkrat towers over her for a few brief moments. For all his hunching over utterly ruins his posture, it at least does him the favor of making him seem less inhumanly gangly.
“Mm...your diet could use some slight adjustments, I think. You do miss the occasional meal, but that is mostly fine so long as you are still achieving nutritional benchmarks, a few of which I believe you are hovering just barely shy of. You have a penchant for junk food, sweets, and comfort dishes - fine in moderation, but a slightly higher proportion of fresh fruits and vegetables never hurt anyone, yes?” She’s glossing over the precise deficiencies, here, but it’s at least a step in the right direction. Some of his bloodwork returns...questionable results at times, and short of repeatedly calling him into the medbay to stick him with needles and interrogate him about the most minor symptoms, there’s very little she can do to verify how concerned she should be until she rules out external influences. 'More vegetables’ is just the beginning of that.