After guiding the first of the returners in the right direction, Ellingham set himself back at his post to wait for the others to make their way back home. Sorrel would be alright on his own he was certain and surely would show a slightly better bedside manner with his pack mates... right?
Perhaps not quite the case. "You look like a mess." Sorrel commented bluntly, probably the first words he had spoken to Miksa and hardly ones that would feel the brave fighter with much confidence or comfort. "What injuries have you got?" Evidently the cut to the side of his face was pretty nasty and he seemed to have a little limp as he walked but he'd rely on the patient to fill him in on what was wrong. "Don't lie either, just tell me what hurts. If you don't I can't help." He warned, just in case the white male before him attempted to put on a brave face about it and pretend he'd be fine without some medical attention.
