He shifts carefully to go sit carefully on his bed while Peter shuffles around cleaning. He blinks in obvious surprise at the offered jar, eyes flickering just a hint nervously up to his friend.

"...Oh." He's not prying. He's not fussing worriedly or judging him for how many bruises there are. That makes it a little easier to take it. "Thanks."

It takes him a moment of just holding it, unscrewing the cap open and shut again before he offers a small truth out of gratitude for the salve.

"They-- hid the bruise cream while I was home," he says, a little abruptly, gaze dropping away, "'s why it-- looks like this."

It's not a confession, exactly, but it's a start.