Adrian lifted a large chunk of debris that he assumed at one point had been a portion of an art class given the tacked on paintings, and heaved it to his left. He'd been at this for a while, and he was tired; his muscles were cramped and his lungs ached from breathing in dust and powdered rubble from the ruined school. "[b]Can't stop, won't stop.[/b]" He muttered over and over as he reached down to pick up another piece of the school. Just as he wrapped his fingers around a chunk of wall and started to lift Adrian's grip gave out without warning, causing the wall to fall back into its position, though now it sported a few bloody smears. As he noticed the smears, Adrian realized for the first time how sharp the stinging in his hands were and raised them to eye level to get a good look. The sight was not pretty: Adrian's hands trembled weakly, his palms and fingers were cut to ribbons by the unforgiving drywall, brick, and glass, and there were more than a few friction blisters dotting the spots where his hands hadn't been cut. 

He fell to his knees and stared down at his hands for what felt like an eternity, not really looking at them so much as through them as he came to grips with the fact that he couldn't continue to work in his current condition. A second, two seconds, and then, "[b]FUCK.[/b]". The word tore itself from Adrian's throat, sounding more like a snarl than an actual word. He balled his hands into fists, ignoring the pain as he raised them and slammed them weakly onto the ground. "[b]Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!!![/b]". Adrian continued this until he'd exhausted himself, then stumbled defeatedly towards the medical tent to wait to have his hands bandaged.