If only words were unnecessary to get across what Sinclair needs. This pains him to say out loud.

"Would you mind helping me over to my room? Don't think I'm gonna be able to get out of this tub by my lonesome."

The internal cringe here is almost enough to overpower the smarting in his leg. He's sure he'd be able to get himself to his room, but if he tried to pull himself out of this bathtub he would probably end up doing more harm than anything else.

"Last time, promise," he adds, laughing.