"Charles, it's a couple of cracked ribs, that's all." He wasn't sure that was actually all, he had no way of being sure of that, and of course there was all the external damage from falling through the loft floor, most of it still oozing blood in a way that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, "I promise you I'm not at Death's door, even in my... unfortunate current state." Which either meant how battered he was or the fact that they were, apparently, living again, maybe even both.

"I will sit, right here, keeping still, until you return if that will make you happy and secure in the thought that I'm not doing anything to injure myself further or aggravate the injuries I've already sustained." It wasn't sharp, it wasn't an argument, it was exactly what it sounded like, an offer, a vow even, because he hadn't fully realized until that outburst just how worried Charles actually was, and it was with good reason, all things considered.