[He let out a loud, almost whiny groan of protest, deciding that the worry of pain or busting something open again wasn't nearly as bad as listening to this, and dragged one arm up to half cover his face with his hand.

(Still kinda hurt, but that was mostly because he ended up moving his hand all over his face. The pain was still vastly less important than his dignity.)]

I'd rather marry the dog. [It's official. If he ever had a girlfriend he was never, ever, ever bringing them home or letting them meet the family.

He moves his hand to the side mostly so he can have the room to slurp up more ice chips, and eventually lets it fall back onto the bed completely.]

Mm. I feel like I got hit by a freight train. [Which was a vastly preferable explanation compared to what had happened, really-- but if he thought about that any more, he was sure he'd get nauseous.]

I think I'll be good when I can feel my toes again. [He shifts a bit, fingers fidgeting; lying still this long was starting to kill him even more.]