There's gratitude in his eyes, even if he can't say it again without sounding too repetitive. Frerin sucks in another breath, a shiver running down his spine as Dis helps him undress. It hurts but he'll do his very best to be strong, to not show it.

The worry in Dis' eyes makes him frown, and he swallows, trying to make his breathing even out and ease the pain throbbing steadily through his arm and multiple wounds.

"It looks worse than it is," he tells her, and that, at least, is true. The few slashes across his torso are not very deep, thanks to his armor, though his ribs are starting to bruise and ugly purplish color. "I should have died out there."