... That's fair. [He had just washed up on a beach out of nowhere half mangled after all. The absurdity of the situation isn't lost on him.

It's a relief to be guided to a half-decent place to sit down. He still feels waterlogged and he's half limping from the strange way his nearly detached arm is waving around. Grabbing it with his good arm, he holds it to his body as he takes a seat heavily.

He opens his mouth to answer the question but ends up not knowing where to start and closing it again. But he can't just sit there and say nothing.] It's a long story. Um. It was... [He shuts his eyes, brows furrowing, as he tries to sort out what had happened in the midst of the chaos, adrenaline, and pain.]- impaled... then crushed... and... and then I was trying to get to my captain, I just- [He opens his eyes finally and looks over at McCree, strangely calm and matter-of-fact.]- pulled until I was free. I'm surprised it's still there.

[He shakes his head in disbelief.] I shouldn't be alive. There's no way... I was at the bottom of the ocean. This was just happening. [And now his arm looks healed. Sort of.]