"We can phone it in." He stares determinedly at the ceiling and tries not to think about the way every tiny movement still sends sharp stabs of pain up his spinal cord. "File a formal complaint. From somewhere...not here. Less water."

It's getting harder to maintain the conversation. Damn, he's dizzy. He's not even standing and he's dizzy. Light-headed. Blood loss. Most likely.

Shit.

"Candlelight and flower petals, huh?" He pulls himself together admirably enough to flash a quick, pained grin. "That's sweet."