"And therein lies the problem." He's not in any big hurry to surrender himself to the laboratory, to let them pick him apart to replicate the worn Institute hardware that comprises his body. It'll have to be one hell of an emergency to get him to consent to that. One little dislocated shoulder isn't so bad.

The range of motion seems to come back after a few seconds, and it gets easier to move. His eyes lose focus for a second as he runs a diagnostic. "Looks good for now," he says. "Thanks a lot, Miss Cortana. Let me know if there's any way I can return the favor."