[ Well, he wouldn't say no to the help staying alive. He's a capable fighter and strategist, but healing isn't his strongest suit. Sure, he knows how to stitch himself up, but his knowledge doesn't extend much further than that. So, he's thankful for running into Anders, who has more experience with that sort of thing. ]
Don't worry about it, princess, I'll protect you.
[ A jest, but only in the way it's delivered. ]
Alright. [ There's no fuss as he steps a little more into a brighter spot, making it easier to see. The harness of his shoulder holster is undone, and gravity tilts the gun there downwards. Gingerly, he tugs the hem of his shirt up, trying not to wince when he raises his arms. His left side has a bruise blossoming in ugly purples, over his ribs. It hasn't been that much more difficult to breathe, but it's been distinctly uncomfortable (blame it on the high pain tolerance). ]
no subject
Don't worry about it, princess, I'll protect you.
[ A jest, but only in the way it's delivered. ]
Alright. [ There's no fuss as he steps a little more into a brighter spot, making it easier to see. The harness of his shoulder holster is undone, and gravity tilts the gun there downwards. Gingerly, he tugs the hem of his shirt up, trying not to wince when he raises his arms. His left side has a bruise blossoming in ugly purples, over his ribs. It hasn't been that much more difficult to breathe, but it's been distinctly uncomfortable (blame it on the high pain tolerance). ]