Beneath him a body of cold water began to fill the basin, evoking a bitter chill that coursed through his spin as if he were caught in the crossfire of a dire battle between fire and ice. After a while the swollen wounds began to numb and the pain lessened, the puss forming around his skin had been washed away into the fowl aqueous murk that festered at the bottom of the tub.
"Thank you Elyna," he muttered, lifting himself from the water "and I'm sorry." Weak, he thought. Arcs had passed since he had used the word to convey feeling, "I'll do what I can to make it up to you." Boiled blood still raged below the burns, angry and red; only made bareable by the numbness of his limbs.
Turning to face the Skyrider the smith bore little shame in being in front of her like this now, his reasons for his lack of attire was beyond his control and he had gathered by the danger in Elyna's tone that if he so dared took a foot outside of the house, he wouldn't hear the end of it. Reluctant to frustrate her further, a sincere look of gratitude replaced the anguish in his pained ocean coloured eyes "I'll be a better friend to you." Hope briefly flickered across his features and he looked up, stepping out from the bath to find something to dry himself with and as time grew on, his sense returned to himself along with the pain. He'd clean the mess he'd made up after he'd figured out what to put over his injuries.