Taran rose from a chair he had been sitting in on the other side of the room. He passed through a small doorway, thankful that he didn't have to duck anymore. That was something he didn't like about the other world; way too many doors that required him to duck. He had many a time banged his horns on a wooden door frame, sometimes harder than others. He was grateful that most of his and Mack's fights had been outdoors, because he could hardly stand being in those tiny, cramped buildings.<br/><br/>His eyes widened at the good news. "It's about time!" he called back to the healer. In the time that Mack had been comatose, Taran had changed out of his armor, mostly due to the fact that one of his pauldrons was stuck in place until further notice. It was quite the endeavor to get out of it. His gauntlet hung loosely at a belt around his waist, and his sword was sheathed. His shirt was more black than yellow at this point, but it was still pliable, so Taran hadn't found the need to change out of it.<br/><br/>Taran approached the cot and gave Mack a once over. He didn't really feel the need to apologize, so he didn't, but the winged demon looked vaguely sheepish. He clapped the yellow-eyed demon on the back appreciatively. In the absence of words to say, Taran flapped his wings idly. He cleared his throat, waited a bit for Mack to get his bearings, and then spoke again.<br/><br/>"So, I brought you here. Didn't think you'd mind, seeing as you're still breathing. Congratulations," Taran said, placing one set of hands on his hips. He cocked his head towards the levitating demon and whispered, "Now you'll get your money," quietly so Mack wouldn't hear. He turned his attention back to Mack, regarding him with his narrow goat-like eyes. "So, what'd you do to have that happen?" he asked, motioning to his own wings with an upper hand, and waggling two fingers as to mimic a scissor. He was rather relieved that the opponent that had evaded him so many times wasn't some random commoner, and it made Mack all the more interesting.