He grins when Fitcher rises to her own defense, clearly pleased with himself for getting her goat, even if gently.
He angles his head toward her hand when it draws near, and raises his eyebrows, intrigued.
"Wouldn't you know it, that's exactly what happened," he says, feigning dismay, "and I've spent so many lonely hours up here talking to myself, I'm certain I've pulled all the muscles in it."

He's full of shit; he's had constant visitors.