"Hey, don't knock the shirt," Yuri says, reclining back. He watches Asch's every move carefully, but he's really got nothing to be worried about. The touching still isn't comfortable, but it's professional, impersonal. He doesn't linger. "It's a fashion statement." And, unlike some other poor bastards he's known over the years, he managed to keep the general blade ambivalence to temperatures and illnesses. He may as well embrace that.

Asch's ping against his core is - weird, actually! It's just as impersonal and professional as the rest of his check over, which is a little ??? to Yuri when it comes to, you know, sliding up against his aer to get a real good look at it. Estelle's checked him like this, sometimes, but once they were in resonance. He resists the urge to blush and slap Asch's metaphysical touch away from his core. This must be something that's...maybe not common, here, but common enough that it's not something to freak out about; another aspect to the upkeep of blade health that comes about in a world not actively trying to no mercy run them.

He tilts his head as he considers Asch's question. "I don't think so?" He says. Flynn had, once, but that was before he'd had one - on one of their first missions gone badly, when Flynn had slipped into shock and autopiloted his way through some basic first aid before they'd both gone wait, Yuri, you're a blade. "Is that something that we should have been doing?" Oops, if so.