Blake examined the bandage on his arm with a weak smile, as Mallory sat down next to him and put her hand over his. She knew just about everything, so he shouldn't have been surprised she could fix him up- why, she said she could count all the way past five-teen! Whatever that was.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Did they say how long we would be in here?"</span><br/><br/>He shook his head, casting a sidelong look at her. She looked drawn and pale; it was clear she hadn't adjusted very well to the ship's movements, but at least for the moment she didn't seem too bothered by it. More worrying was their immediate plight.<br/><br/>"Nah, they ain't said nothin'," he mumbled, shutting his eyes as his head continued to swim. "Y'think they gon' come back f'us?"<br/><br/>He opened one eye and looked sadly at her ripped shirt; he wished she hadn't done it, as he would've preferred to use his own. Sure, hers didn't have shit on it and his did, but who was to say shit wasn't good for injuries? Blake knew a few people who'd shit themselves back in Denyan, and none of them had been hurt at the time.<br/><br/>He shut the eye again and waited in silence, wondering how much longer they'd be stuck down there.