[ He goes quiet and just limps along beside her. He never use to be this quiet. This place really has effected him in ways he hadn't realized.

He reaches for the doorknob and opens it. It's unlocked. He really has no need for a key, he has nothing of value in his home and for the most part he doesn't think anyone would attack anyone in this community without reason. Until this moment, anyway. Inside is an uncharacteristically clean space, everything neat and tucked away, as if at any given moment he was ready to pick up everything and flee. He drops down on a bed and groans into his hand. He runs his hand down his face and then looks at her. ]

It's totally sound proof in here. We can talk.

[ Does that mean anything to her? Does she know?

He gingerly inspects his leg trying to figure out in which way it's broken. ]

There's towels in the bathroom for your wound and there's whiskey in that cupboard. I think I need it.