There's pain seared everywhere, but that's okay. Derek can take it. He always could, even back in his arena, and they'd made sure he kept that. It's only ever been useful, his ability to take his and keep going.

He thinks Kurloz is moving under him, but it's hard to tell with the heat of the fire pressing in all around them. So he just keeps holding Kurloz close as he rolls them both again, and again. The press of sand to burned and lacerated skin isn't a great feeling, but at least it puts out the fire.

When they're far enough away that the only heat he feels is the lingering warmth of melted armor, he pulls away, forcing himself to his feet. He stands there unsteadily for a moment, and briefly he thinks his legs actually might not be able to hold his own weight, but the moment passes.

Then he reaches down to haul Kurloz upright, looking over him to see how bad the damage is as he growls at him.

"Stupid."