Savino barely registered being helped onto the stairs until he actually found himself sat down upon them, relieved for the sturdiness of the bottom steps cutting in against his legs. Head still throbbing, he concentrated only on inhaling and exhaling until the world around him had mostly stopped its sickening spinning. He fancied the man was addressing him; but Savino was worried if he spoke that he might vomit, so he just gave the barest shake of his head without really knowing what he’d said.
But he could hazard a guess of the logical suggestion here: calling for a mediwizard, a healer, perhaps going for a hospital check-up. No: he wouldn’t make a thing of this, wouldn’t go to the hospital, and most certainly wouldn’t go home until he was entirely recovered.
“It’ll – pass, I think,” Savino breathed out, working overtime against the faint-headedness to sound sure of it. Still, he took a cigarette out of the proffered case – with fumbling fingers, but nonetheless grateful to have a task to put himself to, to force his body to complete some simple motion. Waiting for the gentleman to light it for him, Savino felt a little like a child again, helpless and lost and in need of supervision; but the cigarette eased it slightly, the sharp smell and taste of tobacco gradually quelling his desire to vomit.
After a few minutes of stillness, Savino managed a sidelong glance, only now realised he recognised the man. “Thank you, though,” he said, throat scratchy. He had next to no desire to say anything about the fall.
But he could hazard a guess of the logical suggestion here: calling for a mediwizard, a healer, perhaps going for a hospital check-up. No: he wouldn’t make a thing of this, wouldn’t go to the hospital, and most certainly wouldn’t go home until he was entirely recovered.
“It’ll – pass, I think,” Savino breathed out, working overtime against the faint-headedness to sound sure of it. Still, he took a cigarette out of the proffered case – with fumbling fingers, but nonetheless grateful to have a task to put himself to, to force his body to complete some simple motion. Waiting for the gentleman to light it for him, Savino felt a little like a child again, helpless and lost and in need of supervision; but the cigarette eased it slightly, the sharp smell and taste of tobacco gradually quelling his desire to vomit.
After a few minutes of stillness, Savino managed a sidelong glance, only now realised he recognised the man. “Thank you, though,” he said, throat scratchy. He had next to no desire to say anything about the fall.
