He stilled for a long moment before he eased back and turned to put his back to the wall. His chest was heaving, and sweat glistened on his body. He definitely needed a shower.
"Fucker kicked like a mule, had no idea what he was doing." Eliot shook his head. "Bruised, not broken." He'd had broken ribs enough to know the difference. "He got lucky, once." Emphasis on the word once, and Eliot smiled as he said it.