Oh, once you get involved, everyone will look this way - so you must maintain your charm…
While, back at the Kashtta, an offensive against Thane is being planned, Thane himself is just getting back into the unfinished construction site he's made his bitch headquarters. He ordinarily prefers not to leave his projects, but the atmosphere in there is getting... strange. Stranger than usual. And, besides, while he has no intention of
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And he was hoping for a blackout, but that didn't happen. He considers beating his head against the wall until he knocks himself out, because at this point, he's had his head smashed against things so often, he probably has a natural immunity to concussions and anything would be better than this. After a moment, he gives up on that idea and tries to focus on not moving, but breathing hurts just as much so screw not spending the next fourteen hours in horrific pain, and so much for escape attempts.
This is so not his best day ever and if it could get worse, it better get worse soon or else he's going to start thinking that perhaps the universe was slacking off on the whole making him as miserable as possible front.
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She doesn't throw herself at Sark, of course, as he's in pain. But she comes up quickly, puts a hand on either side of his face. "Shhhh," she whispers, and tries her best to project calm, which doesn't work very well as neither she nor the other people in the room are feeling that. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't breathe hard, makes it worse."
She hesitates, then attempts what the Doctor did after she got shot, when she was curled against him. Tries to filter out the pain a bit. The only way she knows is to transfer where the pain-receptors are... receiving. She's not practiced, she doesn't know what she's doing, but maybe it's enough to help him.
It's her fault he's here. It's the least she can do.
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There's something almost calming about April's hands on his face, even without the projection. She's here, she's alive. He didn't come here for nothing, even if it's looking like he's not going to leave here with nothing. They say tales of redemption end in death, but if this were really that sort of tale, then shouldn't he have saved her? Shouldn't his death mean something?
There's another stabbing pain as he tries to calm his breathing. If he hyperventilates, it's not going to make anything better. He's not dead yet, after all, and maybe he'll find some way out of this. Or maybe not.
It does help a little, enough to let him relax just a little, although the pain is still there and every time he breathes, he feels the tip scraping against the bone, but the pain isn't the dominanting factor anymore. Just there, existing in the background like static that twinges.
"Should have listened to you... When you told me..." He winces. Talking hurts and he could probably just think it and she'd hear, but he's not thinking all that clearly right now. "...Not to come."
And you know it's bad when Sark can't even force himself to articulate anymore.
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She scolds him even as she fights not to grimace at the bits of pain she's feeling herself. She wants to pull the skewer out, maybe just enough that it's not scraping his bone, but she doesn't dare.
But she can't deny it's good to see him.
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He's not exactly feeling optimistic about his changes of surviving this, all things considered, and it's not making the realization of how absolutely worthless he is in this world any better. Back home, it would have never gotten this bad unless he just really fucked up and even then there was some marginal chance that someone would extract him because he was too valuable an asset to lose or he'd find some trivial bit of intel that would give him leverage over his captors.
Clearly none of this applies here and he has fourteen hours to find something that does on top of the excrutiating pain.
He takes a breath, steadying himself against the pain, "If I miss my deadline... Don't try to stop him."
He pointedly doesn't want to die, but that doesn't mean he wants her to die trying to protect him just so he can get killed anyway, and if one of them doesn't at least stand a miniscule chance of getting out of here alive at some point, then what was the point?
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She can't answer that. Because she can't promise she'll be able to just sit back and watch him die.
But she won't argue.
"Love you, gege," she whispers.
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