"Any kind of bed gets five stars in my books," Ellie said. She'd grown up with beds but nothing you could call luxury. And the last year? Well, being on the road during an apocalypse did not grant much in the way of bedding.

"That's because I don't want you thinking my head needs looking at too," Ellie quipped lowly as he continued talking, shifting her ankle so that it was in easier reach of his fingers, and giving a short nod of permission.

"What's ten on the scale? Getting shot? Stabbed? Eaten by an infected? The worst pain I've ever experienced? Because that'd be pretty bad, Doc. So why don't we put this one at a 3."