He catches the sight of the scars, because he's gotten good at looking. At paying attention, because the second you don't can be the difference between life and death. They're not bites, and anyway even if they were they wouldn't have healed up like that. He doesn't care about the rest of it, any semblance of pride's been burn out a long time ago. But he kept it decent, at least, sunk down enough she wouldn't see anything she might not want to, and shrugged.

"Nothin' wrong with that." He considered for just a beat, turning her words over, before adding: "Wasteland?"