[His wrist's thick with corded muscle, but the pressure from her fingers still hurts like of a son of a bitch. Charlie starts to pull back in the same moment that she lets him go which may be a step back on the physicality scale, but it doesn't keep him from pressing verbally.]

I don't care if you've had worse, Max. I care if you're alright now. [He shakes the ache out of his wrist, frowning.] Just be straight with me for two bloody seconds, would you? For Christ's sake.