The hug helps. Just being in physical contact with someone else helps. Reminds him that he's still here, and solid. That he's... that he will be okay.

He takes the water a little shakily, eying the red color. But he remembers this, and he remembers it working before, so he trusts it.

He holds the bottle over his leg, wincing and how weird and ragged the wound looks. He pours a bit on it, then watches as the flesh there glistens a moment before knitting itself back together. He releases a sigh as the pain leeches away, finally getting relief.

"That... feels better," he announces, holding the bottle back out for Donnie to take. He's fine, now he can walk. That's all he needs.