Wilford should have been more ready for that. He really should have.
He's distantly aware of the way his busted frames cut into his face. Just like he's distantly aware of the way Baze's fist immediately follows. And the way something slams into the back of his head a second later.
The floor. It's the floor. He's on the floor. That's where he is right now.
It takes a few seconds for the rest of his brain to start working again, and for him to realise that if he doesn't get up, or roll over, or do something, there will be blood in his eye.
"Feel better?" he asks, trying to sit up and figure out where exactly on his face he got cut. The problem is that his whole damn face hurts.
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He's distantly aware of the way his busted frames cut into his face. Just like he's distantly aware of the way Baze's fist immediately follows. And the way something slams into the back of his head a second later.
The floor. It's the floor. He's on the floor. That's where he is right now.
It takes a few seconds for the rest of his brain to start working again, and for him to realise that if he doesn't get up, or roll over, or do something, there will be blood in his eye.
"Feel better?" he asks, trying to sit up and figure out where exactly on his face he got cut. The problem is that his whole damn face hurts.