They had James in a treatment room under the Cusack Stand for about fifty minutes.
He got the wound packed and closed and something for the leg and a great deal of instruction about what he was not to do for the next week, delivered by a TRB doctor who did not appear to be even slightly impressed by him.
Then they let the others in.
Cillian was first through the door and he did not say hello.
"You *ran* at him."
"I did."
"You ran at him. Like a fella running for a bus." He put both hands on his head. "Fifteen minutes of high-level combat and it ends with you doing a sprint."
"It worked."
"It worked!" said Finn, coming in behind him. "That's the worst part! Do you know how badly that could have gone? He recalls that ice half a second earlier and you're a kebab—"
"He didn't, though."
"*He nearly did.*"
Maeve came in last, ignored all of them, and went straight to the doctor.
"Is he done?"
"He's done. He's not to—"
"I'll take the list."
"Maeve—"
