His neck's locked up; he can't even nod. When Curtis breathes, it hisses loud between his teeth.

That's as much noise as he'll let himself make. Even though the engine's chewing on his whole shoulder, the whole left side of his body, desperate to devour him and take back what he stole -- he can see Dejah just above him, and the reassurance of her words chases after the fire to try and soothe the pain. Almost done. Almost over. Breathe. Breathe.

And then, as sudden as the pain arrived, it cuts out. The memory cramps the upper half of his arm, but even that's fading like a bad dream.

Shakily, after two more breaths, Curtis lifts his right hand to his forehead and wheezes, "Shit. You weren't kidding."