The initial mention of Marcus made Bryant's eyes light up, a spark that faded back into gentle understanding. If Marcus was yelling at a chap in a tree, then Marcus was here; that was a disappointment. Yes, Bryant had known deep down the likelihood of Marcus' presence here but it had been such fun to pretend that maybe his boyfriend was away from all of this, perhaps even bringing back reinforcements. It had been a fantasy but a cheering one, just the same, Marcus safe. Bryant's smile had some rueful reminiscence in it. "You've n-n-nothing to be sorry for, Kessie," he assured her quietly. "Marcus is rather terrifying when he's in such a mood, isn't he?" His understanding contained the tiniest fraction of pride. If Marcus hadn't gone out of his way to make a frightened, apologetic Brit less afraid during a thunderstorm, perhaps Bryant would've been more scared than fascinated. Instead, he'd been reassured and fascinated. It didn't change the fact that he knew Marcus could get a bit, ah, rowdy.
Never without good cause, though. So Bryant thought.
Whatever was up with the chap in the tree had to have been a good cause; Bryant couldn't fault Marcus for fighting under the strain they were all feeling, just as he couldn't blame Kessie for not running up to a wild man who may have been spitting out curses in Spanish with the same rapidity as he rained down blows (Kessie's description had been fleshed out in Bryant's imagination to a righteous Marcus in all of his glory while everyone else could only stand back and be impressed, the gassing at the end notwithstanding).
That itch-pain feeling crept up on Bryant again. He'd continued his mental self-checking of his body and any injuries -- arms and shoulders seemed fine, the rest of his spine checked out, his hips felt okay -- as she'd been talking and was about to get to his leg and stump as Kesiah paused again... and it took her a while to start up again. Somehow, that pause made his heart start to beat rapidly. Bryant frowned just a little.
Different. "Different?" Bryant parroted back at Kessie, the frown growing. That maddening phantom itch was driving him quietly insane now, some of it right around where his leg had been amputated and some of it a little lower. Bryant accepted her held-out arms and braced himself. As they had out on the beach, Bryant gave a three-count and they pulled until he was sitting up, looking at Kessie's face rather than down at himself because if she gave any indication of pain, he'd try and let go. She needn't haul his bulk around just because they were cellmates now, though it was nice that she'd offered help. Eden had hemmed and hawed and in the end Bryant had simply stayed where he was for fear of making her more uncomfortable.
As soon as he was sitting up, Bryant let go with his left hand to scratch at the stump that was causing so much discomfort... and his eyes immediately snapped shut in terror (and perhaps a bit of denial). He gripped her right hand harder as the fingertips of his left hand moved over the angry ridge of skin that simply had not been there. A low hiss escaped him -- gosh, it hurt there, all around, above the knee.
The knee he hadn't had the last time he was awake. Hesitantly, trembling, his hand moved past the line of flesh and onto the skin of his new left leg. It felt different than the rest of his skin -- Bryant wouldn't have known how to say that aloud, but it did -- and yet familiar. "Kessie," he said in a shaky voice. "P-p-please... ah... p-please tell me how many legs I have. Oh, bugger, this can't be real." He had to be on some sort of drug. Hallucinations were visions that weren't real. Delusions were beliefs that weren't real. The good doctor was fairly certain there was a word for touch sensations that weren't at all real but he couldn't come up with it right now because his world had gone a bit sideways.
He wasn't opening his eyes because having his leg back was a dream he'd had, just a dream, something he knew wasn't at all possible when he was awake. If this was real...? Bryant didn't have any way to think beyond that question. His brain wouldn't take it further than that.