Jaeger drops the gloves on the ground with a last sidelong look, as if not quite trusting them not to try and escape on their own.

Stranger things have happened in his life, but the gloves just lay there, a grim little souvenir of his encounter.

Paracetamol, that's okay. Jaeger knows what that is and it makes perfect sense. It still makes him feel terribly small to be...waited on like this, but he's already gotten blood on his sleeves and pants, too, and it's an awful mess that he's putting her through. Later, when he has more clarity, there will be an apology. Possibly a cookie basket. (Would tea be presumptuous, as she's English? Or welcomed? He'll have to think on it later.)

He opens his mouth when directed, accepting the tablets and the swig of water without resistance.

"...thank you. And, I'm sorry." He gestures haplessly, indicating...this. Everything.