[ In the back of his mind, he's vaguely aware that he's somewhat locked himself into seeing it through helping this guy to the end, which — briefly makes him question his initial offer. Shit, maybe he should have just tried to fix it up a bit and left this guy. But there's still the matter of his arm and he doesn't seem like the steadiest. Some part of him can't settle on ditching him now.

But he'll get him fixed up, and that's it. He's got his own shit to figure out.

Amos watches the guy, wonders if he might try and insist he's fine, but when he agrees, it at least tells Amos he's not beyond help. He can sense when he's in over his head, at least. So Amos gives a little nod. ]

Whatever you got left in that good arm, you take one side and we'll shove it out of the way.

[ He's not the most familiar with vehicles like this, just figures if it's off, they can move it easily enough, if they both take a side. He gets on the driver's side of the car, opening the door to get a grip on it. And then remarks to him, like this is some kind of comfort: ]

Think you fucked it up enough no one's gonna bother it for a while until we come back.