He clenched his fist, eager to slam it in her face and show her just how bloody impotent he was, but he resisted. Mostly because... she was right. He couldn't hit anything, not without hurting himself, and he hated it. Sure, he'd managed to be useful even so. He'd fought where he could anyway, through the pain, and he'd used his enhanced senses and... he really wished he could fight for real, without the headaches.

There were non-fighting jobs he could do, it was true, but he didn't want those jobs. He was rot at research. He didn't have the first clue how to heal someone, and clearly his attempts would fail hard since he was so unholy. The only thing he could really do was withstand getting hit a lot, and Buffy was clearly doing her best to try the limits of that ability.

"One that's a hell of a lot less dangerous than a girl with no control over her superstrength." He smirks at her bitterly. "Bet they fire you first for being off your rocker."