Miles just looks back at himself, that exhaustion from before creeping back into his face. It makes him look haggard and gray. He feels haggard and gray. Someone had died permanently in that rescue. He just hadn't realized it until much, much later.

"Do I?" His eyes are like stone in his face. "The Duronas put me back together fairly well, I admit. All my bones are synthetic now." A pause. How to approach this next part ... As bluntly as the rest? Would he want it like that? Hell. Twenty-five was a lifetime ago. "Now I'm prone to seizures instead. Had one on a Naismith mission."

Again, he'll pause to see what his double figures out on his own.