He shook himself back to the here and now. Filming. Right.
And then he winced, because the mattress and pillows were doing their best, but his back felt like a festival for carpentry tools. Clamps. Chisels. Hammers. Large ones.
He lay without moving for a moment, breathless; he told himself he was all right, and he was, but healing was neither quick nor painless, unfortunately.
Andy materialized at his bedside. Held out painkillers, water, and a cinnamon-raisin scone. “You’re due for more. With food.”
“Am I?”
“Jason said so, based on when you took them this morning. So take them.”
“Oh…I see. Thank you.” He pushed himself up, gasped as his back became a white-hot comet, and sank back down. “Oh…well, that escalated…no, no, it’s not worse overall, it’s just I shouldn’t move that quickly
