Takes a shot. “Alrightie now, let's get this dead guy buried! And someone go check on Mordecai- poor kid. Gwyn! GWYNDOLIN, GO COMFORT YOUR BROTHER!”

“NooOOOooO, make Gwyn or Mordecai do it!”

“Mordecai and Gwyn, you are both gROUNDED. F O R E V E R.”

“You're grounded. Go to your room! Both of you!”

“I have nothing to do with that.”

Looking at baby stuff on Space Amazon™.

Whineeees.

“Fine. Then I'll remain clothed.” Why is he so pouty?

“Sex is meant for reproduction!”

“I'M A KING NOW, I'M VERY BUSY-"

Not /quite/ dead. Just very, very, /very/ badly wounded. He can be found struggling to crawl up the stairs in the foyer.

Coughs once-- twice. If he had the energy, he would cringe at the blood spattered onto his white cloak.

Normally he'd reject any sort of healing, but he can't even move his limbs to push her away. Feels bad, man.

The pain is gone, at least. He can barely open his eyes, but he can hear. Feel something again. Fuck.

“'Stella, please...” He mumbles. Can't elaborate just yet.

“I thought I could reason with him...he's my brother.”

“Asmo,” He can barely lift his hand, alone call out to his husband.

“I don't want him to put himself in harms way. Please, call him back.” He's trying to stand. Stop him.

“Be gentle with me!”

He tried to get out of bed, but now he's on the floor...cool.