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[spaceparanoids]

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[spaceparanoids]

The question was blunt, but Flynn worked with programmers and engineers back home, for whom tact wasn't often cultivated as a necessary personality trait, so he just grinned, undaunted.

Crossing into Will's small sanctuary, he offered him a small oilcloth bag with a bit of flourish, like a magician unveiling the rabbit he's drawn from his hat.

Ice, for his bruises.

"Just wanted to see how you're doing," he admitted. "You gave everyone a pretty good scare, man."

[ex_this_ismydesign36]

"That wasn't my intention," Will said as he reached out for the oilcloth bag. His voice was quiet and his eyes lowered. Some of it was apologetic for having caused a fuss, some of it exasperation for ... having caused a fuss. "But thank you, my ankle is a little sore."

He'd wrenched it scrabbling desperately up the riverbank and the ice would do better to reduce the swelling around the joint.

"Just hope some people can make use out of the information."