Tim hunches his shoulders a bit more securely around himself, pain and sympathy eliciting a sharp wince. He sways faintly on his feet. God, but his head's pounding. The high, angry tone humming in his ears probably means something bad, but he doesn't have the mental capacity to sort out what.

"Shit," he says, not really sure what else one should say to that, or to the fact that he maybe-sorta heard the other guy's arm distinctly creak? "I'm - sorry." He gives his head a quick shake to clear it, and is rewarded by a bright spike of pain to the temples. Fantastic. "Some revolutionary."

Belatedly, it occurs to him that getting your business detonated might have more than a few unfortunate repercussions. Reflexive tears sting his eyes, products of heat and the agony pulsing up the length of his useless arm, and he rubs at them with a soot-stained shoulder. "Uh - you got anywhere to go, or - ?"