Out Cold
His body lay motionless on the wet ground. His glasses sat askew on his nose and a small trickle of blood slid down his cheek. Three figures stood over him, looks of concern on their faces. But not too concerned. He would wake up. He always did.
Minutes passed and he remained silent, motionless. Their worry intensified. Maybe he wouldn't wake up this time. Slowly, the twitch of a finger, the slight parting of lips for a breath. Long exhales of relief escaped as his eyes slowly opened and he sat up.
"Good show, Giles. Knocked out again."