Of course she is. He'll give the occasional wry complaint himself, or if something's genuinely wrong like his leg is about to fall off he'll tell people that. But anything more personal than that? No, he's fine, too.

"I don't feel like so much of a popsicle this time," he agrees, offering her a hand to get up. She probably doesn't need it. Maybe he'd just like to touch her. Reaffirm that she's solid. Real. Not actually dead.

They can deal with whatever's happening, together.