Truly, he doesn't know how he survived the encounter with Malvo. His memories are marred with pain and panic, some details becoming more or less distinct the more he thinks on them. He's still not entirely convinced that this isn't some form of the afterlife--but that would mean that Wrench died, too, and he doesn't really want to put that thought in his brain.

Numbers lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes. Bullshit. As Numbers studies him more closely in the dim light, he can tell there's something off about his partner. He seems older. Tired. Worn. What on earth happened in these last few weeks that could've aged him so much, made him look like this?

He's missing something, and he doesn't like it. He gives a wary glance towards the men guarding the doors. Numbers doubts they can understand their conversation, but the way they're staring at Wrench makes him uneasy. With tensions and paranoia high, he can only assume they're regarding the two of them with some suspicion because they can't understand them. He gently pulls Wrench to the side, further away from the entrance. When they're further away, he gets Wrench's attention again.

Forget the bombs, he says, meeting Wrench's stare with his own. What happened to you? You look like you've been dragged through hell and back.