Hey, no, it's alright. It's alright. [Quick and direct, Finn says it to keep him from trying to strain himself any further. Pulls back the gauze and takes Slip's jaw in his hand, noting the amount of dilation in his brother's eyes. Concussion it is, which is-- bad. There's no getting him off the hook for training tomorrow, no convincing Phasma to wave him out of PT, and without medical privileges there's no one capable of monitoring him while he sleeps.
The frown he's wearing is deep. Worn down to the bone.
no subject
The frown he's wearing is deep. Worn down to the bone.
He needs to think.]
You'll always be Slip to me, anyway, buddy.