He struggled not to laugh at her admission, his eyes going wide with surprise that she had any thoughts of mothering him at all. After all, he was certain he looked much older than she did and it didn't occur to him that she might have meant it in a different way than a literal sense. "You are, you are," he chuckled nervously, distracted by a sudden, sharp stabbing as her innocent hug wretched a pained cry from his lips that he quickly tried to stifle.
Toren leaned closer to her so that his tender wounds wouldn't be jostled any more and gave her hand a gentle pat of apology, trying desperately to assure her as best he could that it was not her directly that had caused him pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gulping and wiping his brow of the fine sheen of sweat that had been brought on by the pain. He took a moment to quietly collect himself, beating back the pain from showing so plainly on his face so he could feel comfortable speaking with her. He desperately didn't want to have to explain to her the circumstances that caused him such pain now, but he knew he would tell her at least a partial truth if she pressed him for it.
"Truthfully I am not well, Miss Hornwort, you're right. I'll be well again soon enough, but I really don't want you to worry about me so much. I'm well enough to move a few things around for you and I am very happy to do that, I promise. I like feeling useful. Being idle makes me restless here because there's always something that could be done," he tried to explain, unsure if she would understand his reasoning.