Diaes had managed to limp back to the locker room. Although, the journey had been longer than he had expected, and more than once he accidentally jarred the foot in its 'cast', which was really much more a splint. The pain that traveled through his body every time this happened was debilitating and breathtaking. Still, he stubbornly pushed through it to get where he was going. Once he got there, he had to collect some books from his locker and shove them into the bag. The boys were already showered, for the most part, having perspired enough to be thoroughly disgusting. One or two of them came up to Diaes, being friendly enough to be called friends. He smiled. "Hey, Dee, what happened? Coach said you screwed yourself up pretty bad?" The first one leaned over him where he sat on the bench. Pleaidies indicated his injured foot. "What did you do?" asked another who had propped himself up on his locker. "Remember that old proverb about not running on waxed floors," the wounded boy replied with a question of his own, "It forgot the part about the running into the stone wall after twisting one's ankle." He got a collecting, "Oow!" but then one of them said, "So that's it then, just a sprained ankle?" Diaes looked at him askance, "A very painful sprained ankle. The nurse thinks I broke something. Hence." He held up the makeshift cast, even slowly setting his leg down, he let go a second too soon and had to draw in a hiss of breath to keep from yelling. "Well, do you want help getting to class," the first boy asked. "It would be much appreciated, Dan," Diaes nodded, gritting his teeth and grimacing as he levered himself off of the bench. Dan grabbed his bag from him and took his arm. He wasn't a large fellow, but he was strong and possessed of a strange sense of honor not too often found these days. "Thanks," was all the pale, dark haired student could manage. Dan just nodded back, his own dark eyes radiating a gentle sort of nature, if not hiding a fire of their own much like the eyes of the boy he aided.
