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[aggravated]

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Re: action.

[aggravated]

[Bruce makes sure that Conan is on proper ground before he sits back, flexing his shoulders a little before he cues in particularly on that last line.]

..A splint? [The other arm! Bruce frowns hard, moving over.] Conan, what happened? What did you manage to do since you woke up here?

action.

[glassesbrat]

[ He keeps his arm as close to his midsection as possible and just glances back down in the grave he'd just been pulled out of. ]

Nothing. I haven't even been allowed to sleep. But I remember falling down a flight of stairs before I woke up here.

Re: action.

[aggravated]

Falling-

[Bruce lets out a breath and moves over, reaching out but not touching.]

Let me take a look, Conan? If something is wrong with your arm, we don't want any more damage being done to the bone or muscle.

action.

[glassesbrat]

[ Conan's not so keen on letting anyone touch his arm, he knows it's broken. He doesn't really need anyone to confirm that but he might get frowned at, or worse his arm grabbed anyway if he refuses. ]

[ begrudgingly, and with a lot of wincing and pained expressions he offers his arm out to Bruce. ]

I already know it's broken. I just want headache medicine right now.

Re: action.

[aggravated]

Don't try to move it-! [Conan do you know nothing about preserving yourself!? Bruce hisses softly through his teeth and moves, his warm hands gentle as he checks where the break is. It could be worse, he can tell after just a few moments of feeling with knowing fingertips, but it would take time to heal.]

Let's get you over to the Northtown clinic. We can get you in a splint- [materials for casting just didn't exist here] -and medicine for the headache.

[Bruce looks down at Conan, then bluntly suggests-] It'll be easier if I carry you.

action.

[glassesbrat]

[ Well, considering he's been savagely beaten with a bat, nearly strangled more times than he can count, nearly been blown up on multiple occasions, suffered multiple head injuries, fallen from various heights, ran across a burning bridge with an obscenely high fever, got back on his feet after being stomped on several times, was once thrown out of an airship, shrank and grown ten years in the span of a few minutes and willingly takes imperfect antidotes to his "condition" despite the fact he knows good and well it could kill him, probably not. ]

Mm. [ He offers a tiny nod so he can't not upset his headache any further. ] But I can walk just fine.

Re: action.

[aggravated]

You can, but you look as pale as a ghost and you're sweating slightly. Between the headache and the arm, I'd like you to not pass out on me. [Bruce is trying to be logical. He knows it must be difficult, because carrying someone is bad at the best of times, but having to accept it isn't any easier.]