"Actually, you know what, things are going fine out there," Yunlan says, his smile twisting wryly, "we got the elevator out of order and the treehouse's under Patient control last I checked. But, uh."

He's awkwardly undoing his shirt buttons left-handed, and pulling the fabric away from his right shoulder as soon as he's got his shirt unbuttoned enough that he can manage it. As he gets a look at it, he hisses under his breath.

There are some ugly, spreading lesions across the shoulder joint and trailing down onto his right bicep. The outer edges look like dark bruising, green-black and under the skin, which is what the whole thing had looked like this morning. What's new this evening is, with all the running and lifting and grabbing he's done today, the fragile skin at the center of the lesions is torn and weeping an unhealthy-looking tarry liquid.

"...I probably should've done something about this earlier?"