If he were an anthropologist or psychologist instead of a physicist, that might have occurred to him. ('Course, if he were either of those he'd probably be in a shallow grave wherever he'd been doing field work at the time of the Seven Hours War.)

"You're welcome," he murmurs, and tries very hard to resist the urge to pull his head into his torso or something similarly physically impossible. "I'll just... the floor, or a chair or something. Not like I haven't had to do that before."

He'd say he doesn't want to make this any weirder than it has to be but honestly, he's not sure how it could get any weirder than it is right now.