"Can't," is bitten off, but that's it. Charles sinks into the holding pattern, a fist forming tight around the little vial, likely in no danger of cracking it even as knuckles blanch white. Wrist to forehead. It's the stuff of wizards, when all's said and done, and works quickly. And well.
With painkiller comes a lack of pain. With a lack of pain comes with a marginal ability to concentrate and dial down the volume.
He's still drunk though.
The glass vial is somewhat blindly set back down, Charles shifting to angle himself tentatively into a more comfortable position. Legs moving, even if a hand goes down to compulsively check. That much is a relief, anyway.
He can feel Remus hovering expectant, finally flipping a look back towards him, daring to make eye contact now that he is relatively certain it won't mean he's pummelled with thought beyond the usual surface babble. "Before the jump, Severus gave me some potions. Basic first aid, I suppose -- after all the corridors nonsense.
no subject
With painkiller comes a lack of pain. With a lack of pain comes with a marginal ability to concentrate and dial down the volume.
He's still drunk though.
The glass vial is somewhat blindly set back down, Charles shifting to angle himself tentatively into a more comfortable position. Legs moving, even if a hand goes down to compulsively check. That much is a relief, anyway.
He can feel Remus hovering expectant, finally flipping a look back towards him, daring to make eye contact now that he is relatively certain it won't mean he's pummelled with thought beyond the usual surface babble. "Before the jump, Severus gave me some potions. Basic first aid, I suppose -- after all the corridors nonsense.
"Fortuitous."