[he cringes and squeezes his eyes shut when his cheek gets slimed, then gasps in pain as that hand lifts off his injured chest]
[he wipes off his cheek with one shaking hand, not trying to sit up just yet]
You can't break me, you bully. I've met... I've met worse than you. Far, far worse.
[he gingerly rests a hand over his wound, then, feeling something wet, blinks his eyes open, raises his hand, and peers at it: it's smeared with bright red blood. There's a dark spot on his ruined poncho where more has soaked through.]