[At least...at least Santana isn't freaked out enough to give him those kind of looks? He almost laughs, and instead just sort of. Slumps in his chair as she works. Not quite the lean from before, but he's back to resting- or at least conserving his strength. When she finishes, though, he's able to look at his arms, which...he'll very much take amateur bandages over burnt skin and glass shards embedded in it, even if it still very much hurts.]
...I feel like shit.
[In more ways than one. But? He feels. As opposed to...being too dead to feel. He coughs, then, and raises his head again]
no subject
...I feel like shit.
[In more ways than one. But? He feels. As opposed to...being too dead to feel. He coughs, then, and raises his head again]
Thank you.
[To. Everyone.]