Arthur cracks his eyes open, but doesn't move or speak. One moment he's deep under, far below healthy REM, and the next he's awake and his body is clamoring for attention.
The loudest voice is actually his side where her sword had slipped through the chinks in his armour, but it no longer feels like a fresh wound. His nose isn't throbbing as it should, either, but he still reaches a hand up out of the constricting starched sheets, to feel gently at the bridge of it. He likes his nose. It's regal. He'd prefer it not be crooked.
But it seems to have healed well enough, and Arthur wonders how long he's been out. His eyes glance around the room, catch on Buffy reading her magazine, and his eyebrows raise.
"Come to finish the job?" he asks, and it's wry and probably completely inappropriate, but not as bitter as it could be. Looking at her, he's only really angry at himself. She's tinier even than Morgause. Surely he should have been able to put her on her back, and even if she looks like he managed to do her over well enough, he still feels humiliated that it's him bedbound and not her.
He doesn't say any of that, though, just asks, "How long was I out?"
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Arthur cracks his eyes open, but doesn't move or speak. One moment he's deep under, far below healthy REM, and the next he's awake and his body is clamoring for attention.
The loudest voice is actually his side where her sword had slipped through the chinks in his armour, but it no longer feels like a fresh wound. His nose isn't throbbing as it should, either, but he still reaches a hand up out of the constricting starched sheets, to feel gently at the bridge of it. He likes his nose. It's regal. He'd prefer it not be crooked.
But it seems to have healed well enough, and Arthur wonders how long he's been out. His eyes glance around the room, catch on Buffy reading her magazine, and his eyebrows raise.
"Come to finish the job?" he asks, and it's wry and probably completely inappropriate, but not as bitter as it could be. Looking at her, he's only really angry at himself. She's tinier even than Morgause. Surely he should have been able to put her on her back, and even if she looks like he managed to do her over well enough, he still feels humiliated that it's him bedbound and not her.
He doesn't say any of that, though, just asks, "How long was I out?"