At this point, Casey is willing to admit that maybe, just maybe, this fight could have gone better. He's sore, he's completely wiped out, he's not sure if he's still bleeding or if it's just soaking into his bandanna. He should've remembered to put out the fire on his stick when he lost it instead of letting it drain his energy. He should've told Rose what his plan was for getting down instead of trusting her to get it immediately. He should've watched for the rocks.

But those were all just little notes for next time. They're both alive, his heart has only just started to even out from the adrenaline rush and, most importantly, they won. Though it IS a bit humiliating that what little strength that he has left he could be using to walk with is being used to argue with Rose that no, he can walk, he's fine, he's not that hurt. When he cranes his head to see, he can tell the lights are on but Casey figures that, hey, that was pretty close. It figures it would have woken everyone up.

But then they get inside and everyone is sitting around the table, watching the door. Casey suddenly realizes with the experience of a lifelong trouble-maker that he's in trouble. Real Trouble, not the kind that gets him yelled at once and then gets forgotten about. Rose seems to have no clue the way she's talking. Maybe she's never been in trouble.

Probably not. Do people who can punch holes in the wall spend a lot of time getting lectured? He doubts it.

"Before you say anything," he says to the attendant adults, "this ain't near as bad as it looks."