Ark tried to sit up in bed, groaning loudly as the movement sent a fresh wash of pain through his body. The sound drew Dorien into the room, who rushed to Ark’s side, pushing him back down in bed.
"Ark, what did I tell you? No moving from that bed until the day after tomorrow. Do I need to tell you how many ribs you broke again?"
"No Dorien," Ark muttered, a mulish look on his face.
"And stop pouting."
"I am not pouting. I am simply tired of laying in bed!”
"Well next time, don’t catch the mace with your chest. Use something harder, like your head."
"Oh hoh, such wit. Make me laugh and you’ll undo all the work you’ve done," he grumbled, then yawned. "Thank you, by the way."
Dorien smiled crookedly. “Think nothing of it,” he assured. He was glad to see Ark making jokes about it. He had not looked nearly so good after the blow, earned when trying to fight off the constructs Dorien had woken on one of Ellister’s digs.
Ark yawned again, eyes drooping, injuries sapping his energy. “Keia’ll be in again soon?” he asked.
"Yes, she’ll be back in a few hours, now, you get some rest, and I…" he stopped, Ark already long gone.
Dorien looked down at Ark shook his head, tugging the covers back up around his bandaged chest, leaning down to kiss is forehead softly.
"Get better, you lummox."