He's far better than the clumsy hands guided by a blind maester that stitched up a bulk of his wounds at Castle Black. Better than whatever Melisandre did to his corpse during that interim of lifelessness, as is evident by how poorly those jagged, puckered marks have healed.

"No, he learned... from someone, I don't know the name, and I just sort of figured it out on my own. Bran can warg into any beast of his choosing. I can only do it with Rhaegal and my direwolf, Ghost — they let me. Others don't. Bran doesn't need them to let him."

Which is... disturbing, if he thinks too hard about it, but Jon doesn't want to think ill of his crippled younger brother cousin. The boy's already been through the ringer. He doesn't need Jon looking at him like he's actually grown a third eye for being a powerful warg and greenseer.