It still took Ezra a minute. Mort's first statement filtered through, but it didn't quite have the impact it should have. He didn't acknowledge it, as his breathing slowed and he felt the ache in his arms from the attack he'd just perpetrated.
The comment about water, that had a better chance, but it was the last thing that actually snapped him out of it, and he finally looked at Mort, blinking like he was just catching back up with current events. He frowned, a tiny pinch between his brows, and he looked his age for a second. Just a kind, barely able to drink, who shouldn't have to beat anything to death with crowbars. Someone lost.
"You shouldn't give up your water," he said, shaking his head and he stood, looking down at himself. He was a mess. He reached up to pull his shirt carefully off over his head, and he dropped it on the floor. He'd need a new one, that one was dead. Then h looked around and saw some folded towels on one of the shelves. Picking one up, he started to carefully clean himself up.