Much closed his eyes for a second. It was getting harder and hard to balance his desire for vengeance with his duty toward his friend. "I can stitch it," he said, voice a stone in his throat. It was not fair to ask Marian, fresh from her comparatively-joyful trip away. They'd all patched their own clothes, in the forest, and Much was generally still the one best at stitching up stuffed animal torsos before they went on a spit.
He lay several towels on the floor of the bathroom, ready for the awkward struggle of getting Tuck dry, then eventually, into clothes. "Genius?" he echoed Will, without the energy to say it ironically. "None. Literally all I want to do is challenge him to a fucking duel."