Even though he'd had to be truthful, and hadn't even really lied by omission, James had still purposefully left an inference to be made instead of spelling it out. And since it's utterly ridiculous that someone would be running around for months with open bullet wounds, he'd thought he might have a good chance of getting away with glossing over that detail, though of course it might all be for naught anyway depending on what other answers he has to give.
"I don't know." It's truthful, because he doesn't really know, but a soft rumble indicates that isn't enough and so he continues. "It's nothing so strange as might be possible here, but much like when one is feverish, and the chill one feels has little to do with their surroundings." But he's been that ill before--perhaps ironically, one of the last times he remembers being warm was when he had an incredibly high fever during the walkout--and it isn't quite the same.
Perhaps it's just something he's only imagining. Perhaps it's because he lost so much weight so quickly from both illness and starvation, or maybe the stress of everything had caused some sort of permanent shock. Or it's simply that he's indeed still healing and the open wounds have been slowly bleeding for months, not enough to be dangerous, but certainly enough to weaken him.
Ultimately, it's most likely a combination of these things, but James has utterly refused to really consider any of it. He can just deal with being cold all the time, as it's a small price to pay for being alive when he shouldn't be, and it's terrifying to think too much about anything regarding his health other than the small signs that it's improving. The trauma of what had happened isn't something he can truly face just yet.
The need to escape from the topic has come on quickly, prompting him to turn the conversation back around again, trying to move onto another subject even while still stalling revealing something he thinks might actually be enough to get them out of this situation. So he goes for the first thing he can think to ask.
"Where did you grow up? Was it somewhere warm?" It doesn't seem like Raju's much accustomed to the cold himself, although to be fair most people aren't to the extent required from this place.
no subject
"I don't know." It's truthful, because he doesn't really know, but a soft rumble indicates that isn't enough and so he continues. "It's nothing so strange as might be possible here, but much like when one is feverish, and the chill one feels has little to do with their surroundings." But he's been that ill before--perhaps ironically, one of the last times he remembers being warm was when he had an incredibly high fever during the walkout--and it isn't quite the same.
Perhaps it's just something he's only imagining. Perhaps it's because he lost so much weight so quickly from both illness and starvation, or maybe the stress of everything had caused some sort of permanent shock. Or it's simply that he's indeed still healing and the open wounds have been slowly bleeding for months, not enough to be dangerous, but certainly enough to weaken him.
Ultimately, it's most likely a combination of these things, but James has utterly refused to really consider any of it. He can just deal with being cold all the time, as it's a small price to pay for being alive when he shouldn't be, and it's terrifying to think too much about anything regarding his health other than the small signs that it's improving. The trauma of what had happened isn't something he can truly face just yet.
The need to escape from the topic has come on quickly, prompting him to turn the conversation back around again, trying to move onto another subject even while still stalling revealing something he thinks might actually be enough to get them out of this situation. So he goes for the first thing he can think to ask.
"Where did you grow up? Was it somewhere warm?" It doesn't seem like Raju's much accustomed to the cold himself, although to be fair most people aren't to the extent required from this place.