"Oh, you're distracted." He huffs it out indignantly, but when he turns his head to meet Bashir's gaze, to answer the question, his expression is nothing but tender. (And if his hips grind backwards slightly, well, that's coincidence.)

"Green." He's certainly suffering, and it's going to get worse, but it's not truly painful. It's not making him panic. (There were times he did, in the early days; it's why he trusts so absolutely that Bashir would stop this in a second if he asked, if he really needed it. Very few people in the city have that sort of trust, and none so deeply.)

With a sharply playful smile, "I wouldn't want to miss the second half."