Jack's brow furrows at Eliot's immediate reaction, and he tolerates the hand at his forehead for a moment before pulling away.

"I did see someone about it, did you think I stitched it myself?" He takes half a step back and brings the sleeve of the shirt back down to cover the wound. He feels a little exposed, being scrutinized while standing in unfamiliar clothes. Eliot is angry at him- why? Because he's not used to seeing this kind of cut?

It has taken longer than normal to heal, but he feels fine. He certainly doesn't have sepsis, whatever that is. In the back of his mind, he'd more or less put the extended healing time down as another strange thing about this place rather than something diseased within him.

He wants to go grab his coat and put it back on. Instead, he takes a breath and lets it out in a huff. "I'm not ill."