If you prick us, do we not bleed? [open]

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

In some ways fainting had been a blessing to Chaucer. Medically, it was nothing but a nightmare, but he hadn't had to deal with the doctors or healers, or whoever had patched him up in the end. Whoever it was had done a brilliant job; Geoff had been terrified that he'd lose his arm at the very least, probably die. Instead he'd woken up to a splint and some heavy sort of wrapping. He couldn't move his arm, but it wasn't missing. A few minutes of checking it over had passed before he'd even noticed the odd pulling in his side and noticed the bandages there.

The relative lack of pain was a marvel in itself.

He needed to find out who had helped him, thank them, eventually. When he got out of the medbay. For now he was propped up slightly in his bed, struggling with the stylus for his comm. Left-handed writing was ridiculously difficult, made even more awkward by the unfamiliarity of the surface, but it was something to do. A way to write Philippa, one he could transcribe into legibility later.

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[bostonbeatcop.livejournal.com]

Robert peeked into the room to make sure that the man was, first off, awake. Then he stepped inside and made his way over to the medical bed, watching for a moment before he spoke up.

"Hey, Geoffery. Just wanted to come check up on you after that whole nasty thing."

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

Glancing up, Geoff grinned at him. He liked visitors. "Then I won't have to find you to thank you. Very charitable, m'lord."

[bostonbeatcop.livejournal.com]

Robert grinned and shook his head.

"It wasn't like I could just leave you to bleed to death. I was just doing my best to help. And call me Robert, no need to call me lord or anything like that."

[godimgood.livejournal.com]

"Well, my thanks anyway, Robert. I'm very grateful. I would really rather not die out here."