Cullen's response is- a garble of three to four consonants, the meaning of which might have gotten lost long before they passed his lips. And then he sits on a bed, the how or why somehow already forgotten. It can hardly bode well, and he tries to stand again, but his limbs have cooperated for the last time.

Instead he feels himself sinking backwards, somehow idly wondering if the mattress underneath is truly that soft, or if he's become too numb to feel otherwise.

His side almost feels fine now-- and he quickly remembers to press the bandages down harder, until it doesn't, anymore. He tries to lift his head to check on the other man's progress, without success. Groaning Cullen accepts that measure of defeat, and lies still, to gather his strength for whatever is to come next.