It's a poor joke and Hughes isn't about to laugh at it.

"You're running on adrenaline, take a seat." Whether she likes it or not, he's going to 'help' her sit down. "That must've been one hell of a dream. Your heart rate is up, you're clammy, and you're trying to laugh it off. I'm sure you don't want to talk about it," no one ever does, "but is there anything I can do to help?"

So many instincts kicking in right now. Father, friend, comrade-in-arms... he's having trouble picking one and sticking with it long enough to even form a coherent thought.