"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Elisha said matter-of-factly. If you looked closely, you could see white lines around his lips from holding the pain in. There wasn't any use in groaning about it in the waiting room.

Well, and triage had given him something for it. Not enough, but enough to make it less searing.

"You know me and dramatic gestures," he said. "We've been conspiring at the studio to get someone to back into me while I was turning the gather on the pipe. It only came together today."