He wasn't going to worry, even though he wanted to, even though she told him not to. It was there though, the urge to do so, the want to do so, and it was because of that need to fret himself bare that Sh'van wasn't able to sleep that night. Oh, he tried, he tossed and turned this way then that, even got up and drank tea that was supposed to help him sleep, went for a jog to try and tire himself out, had his bandage changed, tried a drop of fellis in some warm milk, but nothing seemed to knock him out. It wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't heard the words "potential setback" during Tamith's last check up, and his world had taken a tumble right along with his heart from stomach then down to feet.
He grimaced, trying not to irritate his shoulder as he made his way from the Yard to the dining hall. Really he should be in bed, or trying to sleep, trying to rest as the healers had told him to. But if he wasn't going to sleep after so many efforts pretty much done, why bother trying in the first place? Why not head down somewhere and enjoy the company of another patron up late themselves and a little food and drink at the same time? It wasn't like he was able to do much of anything anyway, there was always the option to sleep the day away if and when he was finally able to nod off. Healers orders, he thought with a snort, and never in his life, in the ten Turn career he'd had as a rider, had he felt more useless than he did at that moment.
Shit, if he had only been more careful on that day, then this wouldn't have happened. He'd still be at High Reaches, having a Wing meeting with his Wingleader and the man's Second, trying to decide on drills the next day. He'd been a Third, a good Third, a position he'd busted his ass off for and now something he was going to have to bust his ass off for all over again. By now they would have filled the spot up again, and he'd be back to just a regular Wing position by the time he returned. It soured him immensely, but he wouldn't let it bother him overly when he finally returned home, though that might be an issue, he thought...
He grimaced again and grabbed a mug of klah, set it on the nearest table, then proceeded to carefully load plates and bring them to the table, a little at a time, because holding a tray was impossible with only one arm that really did much of anything. Now he was cranky, and maybe coming here had been a bad idea, but for the time being he was here, and after he'd be outside going for a walk, he decided. Maybe if someone did approach they'd be willing to go for one too. Maybe that's what he needed - someone to just listen to him complain for a little while. Someone to just let him bitch and perhaps even put things in perspective for him. Whether he knew he needed that or not.