Barrow stays down, now as much out of resignation as out of any desire to appease Lazar. He hears voices off to one side-- you've got a concussion-- and slowly begins to piece the scene together through the haze and violence of his rebelling body.

Someone dies if this goes on. They're lucky nobody has yet, apparently, but Barrow can't find the focus to determine what can be done about that. He's close, isn't he?

"Just," he breathes at the ground, but also Lazar, "h...help me get to bed." If he tries to stand he will fail, all the strength having gone out of him with this confusing pain in his midsection.