Percy had no recollection of being dug out of the rumble of Quin's shop, nor of being carried to the train station on a stretcher. His conciousness slowly began to come to him as he was lifted and put down lifted and put down and then finally had the odd sensation of being jostled upward into a loud breathing thing. His eyes opened at the irrational idea of being fed to a troll. Light from the lamps glared at him angrily and a splitting headache overwhelmed his senses, immediately he closed his eyes again. Somewhere someone said something about being dead. "I'm not?" Percy muttered, although he couldn't be sure how loudly to be honest. It was coming back to him now.

Once he'd stopped moving Percy took stock of himself. Or tried to. A searing pain ripped through his leg and his stomach and he felt as if one very large bruise had decided to develop over his entire personage. He'd certainly felt better that was for sure. Perhaps the gentleman was right and he was very well dead.

Another voice came from closer to him. Gentler less grating with this blasted headache. He peeked upward glaring at the light. "Your welcome?" He didn't have the faintest idea what the lady was thanking him for and he didn't care. Then came the voice of a whining kid, it summoned memories of a boy flying off a troll. Would they have to listen to that for the whole trip? Was this a trip? He really couldn't be quite sure of anything at the moment.