No. To be fairly honest, he doesn't expect her to believe one single word out of his green cake-hole. Then again, he doesn't believe what people tell him, as a rule. It's only to be expected. You don't trust demons, not even if you are one.

"I'll survive, and don't you apologize. I don't recall you roundhousing me, pumpkin." The mirror is returned to its pocket; the handkerchief isn't, even after he's stopped bleeding. Eugh.

He takes a deep breath, fails, and tries again. Through his mouth this time. "You got no reason to trust me not to do all kinds of nasty to you, but... You know, to be fair, I don't really have any reason to trust you're a lamb either. Looks and deception and all that jazz."

Just making conversation. Snazzy.