Michael's anger is still the thing that often controls him and right now, it's front and center. He hates that Caleb doesn't want him to worry, that it hurts, and it's probably good because it's ebbing away, replaced by his rage instead.

"Then what the fuck are you here for?" he snaps, and he tries not to let the objects on the table vibrate. "You're in a weird bind, I get it, but guess what, I'm gonna worry when you drop tires on yourself or you're feeling hurt." He shakes his head, and gestures to him. "Don't, you'll..." he sighs, because Caleb's fucking up the braid.