As he lay spread-eagle on the ground, dazed and struggling to remember how to breathe, Malachi reflects that maybe the universal alignment of him and Luke finding a long hill, one conveniently abandoned shopping cart, and themselves with absolutely nothing better to do, was one of those tests in life you were actually supposed to avoid. Still, what was done was done, and even as the lack of oxygen starts to become a growing concern he feels not even an ounce of remorse. Totally worth it.
Vaguely he registers movement from the lowermost corner of his eye, and then Luke’s concern is filtering through a mildly dizzy haze. Is he okay?
“...Hhhhgu.” Aha, air! Now if he can just figure out how to reverse the flow... Slowly but surely, Malachi drags in a breath. Then another. Nothing feels broken, and so he slides a grin at his friend. “That...was awesome. I mean, it—” a moment to clear his throat, as it’s feeling rather dusty “—it sucks now, but. It was awesome.”
As his vision stops its lazy, static-y swimming, however, he notices the gravel clinging to a rash of red down Luke’s cheek, his nose trickling blood, and swaps the grin for a frown. “Oh, shit, are you—” The rest of the question dissolves into a yelp as he sits up, jostling his ankle, which sends a sharp jab towards his knee in retaliation. And that’s when he notices the dull throbbing that has become his foot.
It’s far from the worst injury he’s had (of which he’s had many), but thanks to his experience with such, he knows that attempting to walk anywhere is going to end badly. Still, with little else available, he figures that hobbling will get him somewhere else hopefully closer to a first aid kit, at least. Besides, he’s got Luke with him, and it’s not like they’re stranded anywhere! Speaking of whom, he’s got a hand (scraped up and bleeding and thoroughly guilt-inducing) outstretched to Malachi as an offer of help, which fills him with a warm surge of camaraderie and brings an apologetic smile back to his face, and yet... Close to a foot taller and practically twice his weight, Malachi can’t help but feel like he’ll squish his friend if he tries to lean on him.
So he stalls, waiting for some of his own strength to return to him as he asks, “Are you okay? You’ve got one up on me with the whole standing thing, but I mean. You, uh, got something on your face.” Even as he says it he feels bad for making a joke of it, but Malachi’s always found that coping through humor makes everything easier to deal with.
