He knows better than to argue with a physician--and there's no real reason to, as yet. He almost makes a quip about Harry wanting to undress him, but if he's any good at reading people, that might be a little much for the man to take.

Harry Goodsir. Where has he heard that name?

Simon eases out of his jacket, wincing a little, then sits up enough to unbutton and shed his shirt.

His stomach and chest are practically one solid, yellowing bruise, with a fresh splash of purple across the side hit by the monster.