Yeah, except she probably knows how he's gone about business with no armour back when he was just gallivanting around in the middle of the night with a pantyhose on his head. He just charges in blindly and gets cut up, shot at, elbowed, punched, kicked, crowbared and whatever else she can think of. Taking on Frank Castle with no shirt on is probably not going to be as pretty as she's picturing it in her head.

He wraps his arm around her, holding her closer still, resting his head against hers. He won't be letting go for a while. Not until he's assured himself a thousand times that she's alive and here with him. And even then he'll still want to latch onto her.

"I just need a few hours and then I'll be okay," he murmurs against her skin. It doesn't sound convincing, but he's trying.