He tries to soften his features. Pull them into something halfway warm, or fond. The expression is so unfamiliar that he's certain it just comes out as a grimace.

"I'll give you a ring." Again, he tries to smile, but the corners of his mouth are stiff, like he's forgotten. Muscle memory has run out of the corners of his mind, just like everything else. He's been hollowed-out. Emptied.

Operated upon.

That's a foreign thought. He shakes it aside.

"I'll take it easy. Just need some...time to adjust again."

Yes. That sounds like a convincing lie.