Her ploy to distract him works, primarily because that sort of casual, denial-as-coping-mechanism machismo is so familiar that North relaxes the second he senses it. As much as he can relax at the moment, anyway.

He looks back at her, both by way of acknowledging her orders and reassuring that he's not about to topple over, and even manages a quirk of a grin.

"I dunno, first impressions do count for a lot. You make-" he cuts off with a wince and stiff ngh of bitten-back pain, grip going tight on his knees and shoulders tense as she clamps shut a particularly sensitive bleeder. "-make a hell of an impression with explosive rounds and a skin stapler."