It's patronizing. It's infantilizing. It's rude. But Mud is dangerously close to remembering his middle name right now, and he will not stand for that. With a grunt, he slams himself back on the cot and swallows the scream of pain that tries to escape his throat. We're good. He's good. He can handle a lot of pain.

"Ain't even had a chance to fuck it up," he grumbles and whips the blanket back to show his right leg, the upper thigh shaved clean and fishbelly white with a neatly stitched cut right in the middle. "There, you seen it."