He took a lot of abuse. He was used to it by now. He'd been thrown, punched, stabbed, tossed, attacked, clotheslined... Any possible violent action, he'd certainly felt it once or twice (or twenty). He was a man who picked fights far too often. Sometimes he won, sometimes he didn't. His old heart kept on beating and 300 years offered plenty of time for wounds to heal. Maybe it was his raw determination that kept him alive. There were times he thought he would die, perhaps even sometimes he'd wished for it, but his traitorous heart kept beating.
It seemed he was cursed to live, just like Milah was cursed to die.
It was hard to remember if he'd taken a beating like this. It certainly hadn't been any time recently, if so. Maybe he had, and Neverland had wiped the memory away. Thrown once, he was fine. Twice, okay, maybe a little shaken. But bounced off the wall, again and again, like a doll getting the worst of a tantrum? His thoughts melted from anger to pain, and he couldn't focus on much else. He could hear her words, creeping through the blaring pain, but it was hard to focus on them.
If he could, he might have gotten the distinct idea that not all of this rage was really directed at him. He'd remember them later. At the moment, his brain could not process anything but pain.
Without Regina's magic holding him up, he didn't have the strength to stand. The second it loosened, even for a moment, he slumped to the floor. Even if he could have moved, he got the distinct idea she wasn't through, anyway. Instead of baiting her, he watched her with dark blue eyes that reflected the exhaustion only a man who had been chasing a hopeless dream could have.