The corners of his mouth twitched upward in a vague sort of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. There was just a sadness in him that lingered more than he would like to admit. Duma sat down and pulled the other's head into his lap. The more points of physical contact, the better and easier this would be. It was like stitching up a beloved blanket from rags. Whoever had harmed this angel had been quite thorough.
"Yes," he answered simply, running his fingers through short hair, mostly focused on the healing. Duma wanted to move him, whoever he was, to his home and keep the other angel close while he got better but he couldn't be moved in this state. "You will be alright," his voice cracked from the disuse still present but it was getting stronger.