[ No pain. Not even that unearthly warmth, everything Tim had in him, he'd expended. (Something cracks and creaks in his hidden arm.) All that's left is exhaustion and worry. The hand that runs down his back is somewhere between possessive and soothing. Both at once. ]
I... We'll deal with that.
[ And the chilling cold of Algric returns... there's something damp and heavy, nearly invisible... He struggles to focus on him. It staves off the explosion that is surely coming from there for a moment, at least. ]
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I... We'll deal with that.
[ And the chilling cold of Algric returns... there's something damp and heavy, nearly invisible... He struggles to focus on him. It staves off the explosion that is surely coming from there for a moment, at least. ]