JW unfurled his hands--thought better of it--and curled them back into fists. He wants to squeeze one of them. It all comes crashing down on him that this walking tank just might like him. How is that a thing? He doesn't know! He's going to stop questioning it. Shut up, Doubt!

"THAT'S--" He stammers. "NEAT."

Neat!?!?! His brain screams in anguish. NEAT? You can't tell a man who kills giant spiders with a hammer he's just neat!