"I can stand, it's fine." it is not fine, Fingon's torso beneath his shirt is a mass of swollen bruises and rips in the skin, but try telling anything to a Finwean determined to ignore you.
"Just let me see-" he gingerly presses into his ribs, then lets out a hiss and a string of words his mother would be dreadfully unhappy to hear her son uttering.
"All right. I think I might need to sit down. For a moment."
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"Just let me see-" he gingerly presses into his ribs, then lets out a hiss and a string of words his mother would be dreadfully unhappy to hear her son uttering.
"All right. I think I might need to sit down. For a moment."