Nick’s not only responsive, he’s forming sentences as coherently as ever -- and Clem’s joyful relief is echoed in the way Luke lets out the breath he had been clutching so fiercely in his lungs, the knots in his shoulders loosening inch by inch.

“You’re alive,” Luke emphasizes with a tone that leaves no room for any diminishment of the fact. Nasty as Nick’s hand looks, all bubbled up with blisters like batter on a griddle, it’s far better to see him in pain but alive than the alternative. This they could actually attempt to treat granted that they found the necessary supplies.

“Jesus Christ…” Hushed incredulity. He shakes his head as the events of the last few minutes wash over him, his pulse still pulsing wildly in his throat. “That shock knocked the breath right out a' you... thought it might a’ stopped your heart. It wasn't lookin' too good for a while.”

There’s a shift of his jaw and a pained, worried knit to his brow, his lips pressing tight just a moment. And it's all the emotion he’s allowing himself - all that he can - before he swallows away the thickness in his throat and blinks his eyes clearer. “How’s the rest a' you doin'? If you start hurtin' pretty bad while we're on the move, jus' say somethin', okay? We'll figure somethin' out."