Don't know. [Can't see it.] I'm still walking, so I'm sure it's not that bad. [To say nothing of his nerves, but Tommy knows how to dial them down until he can get himself straight. Eight concussion, what the hell. Did that girl play high school football?

He glances over at Eddie, her hair drooping ringlets from it's pile and mist collecting to slide down her cheeks like tears. Fuck him, she's gorgeous. And he's the idiot who possibly concussed her.] Really am sorry about the way I tackled you. My response times are a little keyed-up.