Hugo lay in his bed, finally awake. His head felt like murder, right along with the rest of his body, and he could smell smoke. A quick glance downwards told him that his suit was charred, and flakes of ash had fallen onto the bedsheets. He blinked annoyedly -- that suit had cost an entire paycheck, and it was effectively ruined, just like all the others he'd worn when he lost control. He'd have to downgrade to less expensive clothing for his classes.
Trying to move sent a jolt of pain through all of his muscles, and very slowly and deliberately, he slid out of his jacket to examine the problem. His arms were completely purple and swollen, and the bruising seemed to go on right across the rest of his body, though it was easily the worst in his arms. They still worked, though - nothing seemed to be broken.
Satisfied that he wasn't broken, he tried to get up. CRUNCH. He laid himself back down, wincing in pain. A few broken ribs from his takeoff earlier - probably fractured during his unsuccessful landing, then outright broken during his second, more violent landing. This was cause to go to the infirmary, no doubt.
It took Hugo upwards of an hour to get himself undressed, cleaned, and redressed, given his poor condition. When he was finished, he slowly made his way out of his dorm, now dressed in a damn-near bulletproof Adidas tracksuit, which kept all of his injuries covered. He locked his door and exited the building - he'd have to throw out the ruined suit later, when he could bend over without worsening his condition.
With that, he started slowly making his way across the courtyard lawn towards the school clinic, trudging along with an awkward gait to keep pressure off of his left ribs. He was oblivious to the presence of any other students.
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