The medic set Caleb's arm beside the yard bay, under a work light Hiro had dragged out on an orange extension cord.
The yard gave him cold concrete, a folding trauma table, and a woman in gray gloves telling him to breathe through the reset because biting through his tongue would only give her another problem.
Caleb breathed.
The bone moved.
For three seconds, the whole world became the inside of his own mouth.
"Six weeks," the medic said when the splint was wrapped and the sling was clipped into place. "Minimum. You keep it still, you sleep, you eat like you mean it, and you do not test it because bravery gets loud."
Iris stood near his shoulder with one hand on the car door. "He hears you."
"People hear me all the time. Then they climb stairs with grocery bags." The medic leaned into Caleb's view. "Six weeks means six weeks."
Caleb studied the black edge of the splint. His fingers were there, swollen and angry, still obeying him if he asked slowly.
"I heard you."
