Tom had a few minor scars from his lifetime of farm work and the occasional athletic injury, but he had none yet like the one he would have by the end of this painful process. However he was certainly willing to trade a scarred torso for a chance at making it back to the library alive, so he just nodded along to Marcus's short progress reports and bit down harder on the sleeve of his jacket.
When he noticed the other beginning to tuck away the rest of his supplies, Tom craned his neck to try and see the work Marcus had left behind, and flinched slightly from the sight of the cut. He had known the wound was bad, but it somehow seemed worse now that it had been hastily closed. Tom's mind finally let him panic a little, but he held it down. Once the wound was dressed, the smaller man released a breath he'd been holding and winced at the pain, realizing it was better if he didn't exhale or inhale so deeply. Shallow breathing would leave him a little lightheaded, but in less immediate agony.
"Fuck what, exactly?" Tom could hear them coming, but hadn't yet sat up to see what Marcus could see. Holding the bandage in place with one hand, he pushed himself into a sitting position with the other arm and looked around, the same narrow alley he'd fallen in staring back at him until he remembered to look up. A series of fire escapes were directly above them, attached to the side of the apartment building they were hunkered against, the lowest of which was out of Tom's reach by quite a bit, even if he'd been healthy enough to jump.
"Uhh," he deliberated, turning around to eye Marcus's bike with some skepticism. It was clear he was thinking the same thing as the other man. "Can you lift me up there?" He pointed to the fire escapes, using one hand on the dumpster beside him to hoist himself into a standing position, and his head swam as he steadied himself against it. He caught the look on Marcus's face, and tried to head him off with an explanation. "I know, I know, but trust me. They'll follow your bike, won't they? I don't think I can hang onto it right now. But it makes a hell of a noise." Tom hadn't let on yet where he was staying, but it obviously didn't matter at that point. "You can lead 'em away, right? I'll stay here for a bit, and get back to the library when it's light. The LBJ ain't too far from here, I can limp it. And I don't want to bleed all over you or anything." Tom sounded more confident than he felt, but he didn't see what other choice they had. This guy had already been more than helpful, and Tom had never been good at relying on others.