Percy's arms are shaking as he tries to haul himself forward. Somewhere in the scuffle, his glasses have been knocked off of his face. The world around him is fuzzy and indistinguishable, reduced to distorted blobs of color.

He can't even begin to look for them. He doesn't even have his guns to defend himself- they both lie just out of his reach.

"How pathetic," the man says. Percy might not be able to see his smirk, but he can certainly hear it. "I thought you'd at least die with some dignity."

The boot slams him in the small of his back and he cries out. Breathing heavily, he tries to push himself back upright, but the boot keeps him firmly pressed to the ground.

"I don't think so," the man says. There's a mocking lilt to his voice. "You're not going anywhere. Not when I've been paid a very hefty sum to ensure that you don't."

That's almost not surprising anymore. Vox Machina isn't exactly a popular crowd.

For just a moment, the boot is removed. Before he even has a chance to think of making a move for either of his guns, he's kicked onto his back and the boot lands on his shoulder.

The man stands above him, pinkish energy crackling in his fists. He grins, revealing the wide space between his two front teeth. "How does it feel?" he asks. "You're about to…"

He's knocked aside with a heavy grunt and a sickening squelch of Grog's ax before Percy even has time to blink.

"No one! Touches! Grog's! Friends!"

It's over so quickly.

Percy wipes the blood from his face, pushing himself upright.

Grog dislodges his ax from the man's skull and turns to face him. Blood is smeared on his arms, his chest, and across his face. "You alright?" he asks. Percy can't quite make out the expression he's wearing, but his tone is uncertain and not at all Grog-like.

"I'm… alright." He moves to push his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, then remembers he isn't wearing them. His heart rate is elevated to an uncomfortable level and he presses a hand to his breastbone, sucking in a deep breath. He feels shakier than he'd like to admit. "Shit."

"Easy there, Freddie." A strong hand grips his elbow and helps him to his feet. Vax doesn't immediately take his hand away, for which Percy is thankful. "You're looking a little unsteady."
"I'm feeling a little unsteady," Percy says. He rubs the back of his neck and shoots a glance at Vax. "Where were you?"

"Ran into a little bit of a problem back there, but it's all taken care of. I don't think we'll have to worry about any more of these fellows coming after us. At least not for the time being." Vax wipes his hands together and raises an eyebrow in Percy's direction. "You sure you're alright?"

Percy clears his throat, brushing himself off. "Of course. Never better. If you could just help me find my glasses…?" He trails off.

"Oh! I think I found them!" Grog shouts. He stoops over, picking something up off the ground.

"Wait!" Alarm shoots through him, but it's too late.

-clink-

Percy feels the last of his hope die. He slaps his palm against his forehead.

"Oops. Sorry 'bout that, Percy."

"It's… I'm sure it's fine," Percy grinds out. "If you could just…"

"Let me." Vax steps forward and collects what's left of Percy's glasses from Grog's massive hands.

"How bad is it?" Percy asks. He's almost afraid to know the answer, but Vax simply hands them over to him. "Ah." They're completely snapped in half, but at least both the lenses are still intact. "Thanks. I guess." No problem. He'll just have to find a way to fix them once they're back with the others. It shouldn't be too hard.

In the meantime, he'll have to find a way to cope.

Grog, however, has perked up. "Aw, you're welcome, Percy," he says brightly and he sounds so proud of himself, Percy doesn't really want to burst that bubble.

"How bad is it?" Vax asks.

It takes Percy a moment to realize he's not talking about the glasses. "I can see well enough," he says. It's partially the truth. He's not blind or anything, but his glasses aren't a fashion statement.

He does need them to see.

"I'm sure we've got something that can fix these back at camp." Vax reaches for them, but Percy swats his hand away.

"Don't touch the lenses," he snaps. The last thing he needs is having them smudged on top of being snapped in half.

"Alright. Fine." Vax lifts his hands to show that he means no harm. But then a smirk slowly crosses his face and he crosses his arms. "If you need to hold my hand, I won't take offense."

Percy flushes a bright red. "I don't need anyone holding my hand, thank you very much."

"If you say so." He stays close though. Maybe it's something that would have irritated Percy if he weren't so thankful for it.

Grog trudges after them. "I did something bad, didn't I?"

"It's alright, big guy." Vax slaps him on the shoulder. "It's nothing that can't be fixed."

Percy sighs heavily, rubbing his forehead. "Right. Yes. It's all good. I'll just…" He flaps a hand vaguely.

"Oh, that's good." Grog perks up a little. "I was a little worried."

"Nothing to be worried about," Vax says brightly. He gives Grog another slap on the arm for good measure. "I'm sure either Pike or Keyleth has something that can fix this. Right, Percy?"

"No, I don't think so." He doubts it- although he's really just saying that to make Grog feel better. It's something he should be able to do himself with the right tools. "This isn't really something a healing spell or two can make better."

"Oh." Grog wilts, just a little.

"No worries though," Percy says quickly. "Once we catch up with the others and I have a moment to myself, I'll be able to put them back together."

He takes a look at the two of them and feels his breath catch in his throat. He has a family again. Even before he'd found out his sister was still alive and in Whitestone, he'd had a family.

He never really took the time to think about it before now, too caught up in his quest for revenge against the Briarwoods, but… he loves these people. And they love him in return.

How long it's taken for him to accept that…

Vax tilts his head. "You alright there? You seem to be getting a bit… misty-eyed."

"I'm fine," Percy says quickly. He wipes his hand across his eyes.

"You're sure? That doesn't look like fine if you ask me."

"I wasn't," he says. "Asking you," he clarifies a moment later when Vax just stares at him. Percy sighs, feeling tremendously put upon. This, he thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose, is the burden of family.

Of course, when Vax slings an arm around his shoulders and Grog joins them, he thinks it isn't a terribly heavy burden.