[francel giggles in a manner so dazed one has to stop to wonder if the concussion is setting in at last, but no — it's only zephirin's proximity making him warm, turning him breathless. his heart flutters in his chest.]

Oh, the white-haired boy? Was that his fault? [another little laugh.] I'm not angry with him. I didn't even see it coming, to be honest.

[francel's humor fades suddenly, however, as something does finally kick in on his part... the pain. his cheek is throbbing. better than than in the cavity of his skull, he supposes, but still...]

Um... do you suppose Mr. Whitecape has an ice pack or anything? My face really hurts...