@lavendersails | 1705 cont. from HERE
Antonio weakly shakes his head, looking away and closing his eyes in a wince. It hurts. It all hurts. How could he let João see him like this? What an embarrassment. The only one who was supposed to know how weak he was... was his own self. Yet here he was being picked apart by European vultures like some sort of corpse. His body shakes a little as he labors for another breath... or maybe he is crying. It's hard to tell. Something about having the Portuguese man here tending to his wounds hurts him worse than the injuries gained over the past five years ever could.
"No... the doctors need to be with the people. Not me... never me. I won't let them see me." The Spaniard grits his teeth. "I can handle it myself..." He can't say that he doesn't trust the doctors. "I do not intend... to die..." Another raspy gasp of air fills him and he sits up, trying to prove a point. "It's not that serious..." The look of distress on his face is hard to hide even as he looks up at the ceiling of the ugly brown tent and breathes heavily.
