Henry Morgan was a very bad liar. To most people it was probably a very convincing act, but to Jo he seemed to put a little too much effort into it. A Henry who was calm and collected would never use so much false bravado. The stand-off with the other doctor had set off a few alarm bells...there had been so much spring in his step, he'd been entirely too charming-his smile hadn't reached his eyes.
And then there was the bigger issue, the reckless endangerment, the suicidal devotion to the case. Jo come to terms, as best she could, with Henry's obvious lack of self-preservation instinct. She hadn't realised exactly how little he cared about his own life. Some of the cases inspired a kind of mania, he became a mad scientist until a plausible solution presented itself. In those instances he didn't stop to consider his own safety, he was too preoccupied. When Gustin had put the pedal to the metal, Henry had already weighed up every possible outcome, and chosen the most effective method of cutting the arrogant asshole off.
And then Henry had told her that he was fine. The brush with death hadn't shaken him, Jo could see that, but that didn't mean he was okay. The earnest, exasperated tone didn't match how defeated he seemed to be.
Henry Morgan wasn't normal, but he examined corpses for a living. If dissecting lab rats and taking apart medieval torture weapons in his spare time put the doctor at ease, then who was she to butt in? They all had their coping methods, although the carelessness and frantic devotion to the case was more than a little worrying… it was Jo's job to find her partner a better way than risking himself and his career. She'd always taken her frustration out on a paper target at the firing range, maybe he would find the same relief.
Or maybe he'd prefer a long conversation at his roommate's dinner table. If Henry could talk himself into the minds of murderers and the deceased, he could certainly talk himself out his funk. Even if he couldn't, she'd been told that she made a pretty good sympathetic ear.