Charlie remained hunched over in the chair, head nearly face down on the desk, resting in the crook of his one arm, while the other clutched the ice to his stomach. His ears twitched at Quin returning and he turned his head to look at Quin without lifting it from the desk. "Your hand. It's warm, can you put it on my stomach? It's good to alternate heat and cold right? Why are you so warm?" Charlie wanted him to touch him, for much more than the injury. He was already able to catch his breath and talk without coughing.