The obvious answer was no, he wasn't okay. Sanzo was far from it. But he'd bite his own tongue off before he ever admitted that out loud.

"I'll manage," Sanzo grumbled. Despite the fact that the monk was busy trying to cold-shoulder the patient, he was being surprisingly persistant. Why the hell did he always manage to attract people trying to talk to him?

Sanzo finally looked back him.

"Are you usually this nosy?"

How the hell did his look any different from the wounds the other patient's suffered?