His eyes snap up as Zach comes over and he can't help the faint smile as the youth takes the pot from him. [i]'Busted. . . I'm sure the others thought I just wasn't very hurt, but Zach is very attentive. . .'[/i] He'd done his best not to move munch in front of the others, his history of getting hit on the street from angry addicts, parents, and gang members giving him a good idea of his injury's severity and telling him that he's just severely bruised. Feeling “caught” he doesn't object to sitting down and with a long sigh settles into the chair, wincing as the expansion of his lungs still pains him. He opens his mouth to tell Zach he doesn't think the boy is stupid and that he should be fine with some rest when the young man demands he remove his shirt.

A painful twinge having nothing to do with his injuries passes through him and on impulse he reaches up to hold his collar closed, eyes wide. Zach is having none of it however and insists that if he's not going to at least talk to a doctor, then he himself is going to make sure the injuries aren't that bad. The added bit at the end about “assaulting his virtue” catches him and his eyes drop to his lap. [i]'He just wants to help, right? That's natural. . .'[/i] His eyes squeeze shut as the upset youth puts a sickening image in his head and with reluctance he lets out another sigh, looking up at Zach sadly.

“I'm sorry Zach, I don't think you're stupid. I'm pretty sure that these are just bruises, but if it will put your mind at ease. . .” Using one hand he carefully undoes the top of his robes, sliding them down carefully until they've settles around his waist. With even more care, he tries to get his under shirt off, but the T  isn't willing to cooperate with one arm limp. He has to get some help from Zach to get the bit of fabric all the way off, and settles back against the back of the chair after, the strain on the bruises during the activity tiring him out a bit.

The left side of his chest as a slightly larger than fists sized bruise just below his peck, while a lighter, barely visible bruise settles around square on it. His arm looks a bit worse, the dark color showing the man put more weight into his punch aimed at it and showing clearly why he doesn't want to move it. Kiel looks down at his own injuries and then smiles faintly at Zach. “I'm pretty sure they're just bruises. As you can probably see, I've been on the wrong end of misdirected ire a few times before.” He points to the small handful of scars here and there from times he stood up for those who needed standing up for and didn't come out unscathed. Still smiling, he gives Zach a bright look. “My breathing is fine, and I'm sure if there's any real damage it's just a crack, and even that's unlikely. I don't feel any burning.” He had to learn to self diagnose a long time ago. He prays Zach will be satisfied quickly, not wanting to remain uncovered for long. Despite feeling he's no longer a danger to Zach, he doesn't want to accidentally spook the little one should the boy need comfort after the ordeal.