A thousand teeth and yours among them.

Ashton was using way too many words for Njal to understand (or early morning Java), so he just nodded glumly, his chin making a plopping sound against the wetter grasses. Once his head had sunken back down for the last time, he simply lay there. Traveling back had caused his body to become muddy and gross; he had not muddied it up on purpose, although the thought had crossed his mind. Whatever grime stuck to him now was from the painful trip across the territories. But it didn't matter how the mud got on him, just that it was on him, according to the medic.

He let out a tired sigh as his thoughts rounded back to the more important question: Was his leg going to be alright? "Have at it then," he said suddenly, as if growing impatient for a proper diagnosis, "Before I pass out." Considering his entire ordeal, it was a surprise Njal hadn't fallen in to a deep sleep thus far.