He just nodded once at that statement, because that did make sense, and even just the pressure of Charles' hand against his shoulder hurt, not badly, but enough for him to realize that the wood shard wasn't the only issue.

He turned his head to bury his face in the bend of his other elbow, just in case he had to bite down on something his clothes were a better option than his lip. Luckily despite the deteriorated state of the slats he'd fallen through, the piece that had lodged in him was solid enough to come out without fragmenting further, but it was still enough for Edwin to muffle a noise of pain, breath shaking for a few long moments before he managed to rein it in again.

He lifted his head a moment later, taking as deep a breath as he could manage, feeling hot bands of pain across his chest as he did, like iron wrapped around his ribs. But what he managed to say, low and still pained was: "I believe my shoulder is dislocated. I can return it to its place, but not without help."