So they arrived around the same time, a note that Blake doesn't bother sharing at the moment. He's not so interested in keeping it close to the breast as he is sticking to what's crucial for the moment.

"Bruised, if not," he replies, dropping his heavy, damp shirt back down. "Damn," he huffs, head pressing back against the wall. It's hard to know what part of him hurts worse — between the ribs, his head, and the rawness from the pod goo, it's really a toss-up. But it's not going to do him any good to complain.

Since Jayden's been here a couple days, Blake looks to him asking, "What're supplies lookin' like? Food, water, meds — any of that?"