"Probably," he replies quietly, rubbing at his face again before adding, "unfortunately. I'm sorry."

That apology comes out reflexively, as though things might get better the more times he says it. They don't, so he adds more, despite the fact he probably shouldn't waste so much energy on words -- it's in his nature to do so.

"I don't mean to be a further burden to you after all you've had to put up with today," says the guy who was impaled by a pair of hedge clippers. He looks down at himself, his eyes still more or less out of focus. "Cisth, I'm a mess."