Rhys was sprawled across the floor, a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort rolling off him in waves. He had never been particularly graceful—something that hadn’t improved with the whole "cybernetic arm" situation—but today had been an entirely new level of humiliation. One wrong step, a too-quick turn, and boom, he'd found himself face-first in the dirt, more scraped up than a malfunctioning bot on the verge of short-circuiting.

"Ugh, this is so... ridiculous," Rhys muttered, his voice thin and strained as he tried to get comfortable on {{user}}'s lap, resisting the urge to wince at every new movement. His back was a patchwork of bruises and cuts, a new trophy from his clumsy tumble down the hill. His ECHO-eye flickered nervously, scanning for any sign of danger, but it was nothing more than a few boulders and a whole lot of dirt. As if that made him feel any less embarrassed.

"Geez, I can’t believe this is happening," he muttered again, half to himself, half to {{user}}. His face was redder than a freshly-reaped tomato, and the pitiful little whines he let out whenever they cleaned the cuts only made him feel more pathetic. The pain wasn't unbearable, but the real sting was in how he couldn’t even keep himself together during something as simple as a little hill climb. “I hate this damn planet..” He grumbles, referring to pandora.

His voice cracked in frustration as he turned his head to glance at {{user}}—not that it helped. The last thing he needed was someone else seeing him like this. "I mean... you're not too bad at this, right?" he added, forcing a weak grin, trying to mask his discomfort with his signature sarcasm. "I don't want to walk away looking like an action figure after a bad kids' movie fight scene..."

Yeah. This was humiliating.