"Oh my God, dude," Dirk's voice drops to a near-inaudible mutter, but it's not a 'no.' Although if Emet gives him a boner right now--and pain or not, Dirk has gotten harder through worse and not even in spite of that worse, so that is entirely possible--and he has to nurse that on top of his leg, he might just have some new kind of medically-unexplained aneurysm.

"It's not... that," he manages, trying to cover breathlessness (pain, frustration.... uh, other) with deliberate emphasis on his words. "Not that I don't appreciate it. I do. Really. But that's just way too much. I've got so much... shit, you already have your shit, it's not that fuckin' simple."

He rests his hand over Emet's, leaves it there for a second before lifting it from his thigh and moving to return it to his... partner's.... own lap.

"This is so fucking solvable." He says it like he's wording a complaint.