[ The poke of an unexpected head up from the floor startles him, and for a moment he stares at her in confusion before he remembers — the woman who owns the horses. He has little time to reflect on the matter before she's up the ladder and reaching for his forehead, earning a flinch backward followed by a flinch in general due to the pain of two angry wounds. In the end he resigns himself to being touched and prodded, though he looks none too thrilled by it. ]
Like I got shot.
[ His voice is hoarse and weak, lacking the unhappy bite he'd hoped for. The sound of water hitting tin has his immediate attention, however, distracting him from any attempts at standoffishness; the mug is accepted without complaint, and the water is swallowed greedily down all in one go, leaving rivets of water trailing down his chin. When he finishes he wipes it away with a shaking hand, managing a slow and careful breath in and out as he tries to get his bearings. ]
no subject
Like I got shot.
[ His voice is hoarse and weak, lacking the unhappy bite he'd hoped for. The sound of water hitting tin has his immediate attention, however, distracting him from any attempts at standoffishness; the mug is accepted without complaint, and the water is swallowed greedily down all in one go, leaving rivets of water trailing down his chin. When he finishes he wipes it away with a shaking hand, managing a slow and careful breath in and out as he tries to get his bearings. ]
What happened after the fire?