Every intake of breath comes in a painful wheeze from where Jim is laying underneath Zandros. Wide blue eyes seem to flicker with the magical shield between the two men but this in fact just a trick of the light. The starship captain doesn't have a lick of magic in him, an entirely mundane man laying in the entirely mundane dirt. Damp with the spilled coffee and cut from the shattered pieces of the ceramic mug he'd fallen on.

Insofar as fights go this one is shaping up to be at least less damaging than most Jim's involved in. He has a very bad habit of getting the crap kicked out of him. It isn't until Harrowheart's voice cuts through the shocked murmurs of the crowd gathered around them that Jim sucks in a breath suddenly and has to wince in pain because of it. He can't fight his friend too right now, but there is no accusation thrown Jim's way.

Just an outstretched hand from a friend he hasn't seen in months.

The captain takes the proffered help and stumbles to his feet none too gracefully. His gaze flits between Zandros's bowed head, to Isidor, and then to Harrow. He doesn't know whether they're telling the truth or Isidor's story anymore but he really hopes it doesn't end with him getting hit again or worse.

"Thanks man."