Even with Martin's assistance, John still lets out a grunt of effort as he sits back up. Being upright feels like far too much work, especially after how magnificently Martin had just been treating him, and he has to fight the urge to let his momentum carry him forward into a slump against Martin's shoulder.

He successfully fights the urge long enough to parse Martin's question, and long enough to remind himself that giving in would be fundamentally unhelpful. But then it occurs to him that Martin could certainly get his shirt most of the way up as long as he remains upright-adjacent. Getting it off the rest of the way could be a bridge they cross when they come to it, and in the meantime, he could be enjoying what a nice resting spot Martin makes.

Well, he can't argue with that logic. "Mhmmm," he agrees even as he lets himself slowly pitch forward, draping himself over Martin's shoulder with a sigh of relief.