He's a piece of work, to be certain. Cade has bruises and small cuts all around his ribs and midsection, his arms, most likely his lower half as well, though he's not so daring as to go that far with Wren here. He nods with a mouthed 'thank you' to the floor as he accepts the new rag and starts going about the miserable process of wiping the dried blood from each small cut, none of which are unlikely to heal normally, but all of which are a nuisance anyway.
Cade is staring into the middle distance when he finds he can't reach over his left shoulder, his right arm too swollen and sore to make the bend. Resigned, he squeezes the rag and lowers it. He has no idea how his back is looking-- well, he has some idea, but no idea how the fight affected it-- and part of him knows what has to be done next. He just needs to take a moment to pretend it doesn't.