[He tries to get up a second time, but his knees buckle and he has to use his less injured hand to stop himself hitting the ground. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, like even the act of keeping himself upright is taking tremendous effort, but no matter how he wills his shaking limbs to cease, it seems nothing will obey him like it should.
He laughs, this time bitterly. Of course. This is no paradise -- rather, a personal hell, where he can't even move to defend himself against this single human.]
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He laughs, this time bitterly. Of course. This is no paradise -- rather, a personal hell, where he can't even move to defend himself against this single human.]
And why does that matter to you?