Nothing. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't approval. Not anything good. Perhaps it's best he doesn't look for a reaction now.

The woman's yelling something at him now. He does his best not to pay attention to her actual words, but it's to no avail -- they drill through his skull, doing absolutely nothing for his growing headache. Slowly, he tilts his head back down and around to fix her with a withering stare, lip curled.

"You've got a little, aah--" Arching a brow, he motions at his forehead. That blood trickling down her face. "...Right here. Must've slipped and cracked that big head of yours on a rock back there."

In other words: go ahead and gloat. It's all just more tinder to fuel a grudge -- one he suspects he'll be nursing for a long while now.