He's so fucked.
Something in his right arm twitches while he's peeling himself off the ground and he barely notices that it's sluggishly dripping blood as he staggers the few meters back over to where the hoverbike had fallen.
Damn orange rocks blending in with the damn orange sand, and damn busy mind too focused on everything but where he was driving.
The motor is still purring like nothing is wrong when he approaches, but the right stabilizer is at an awkward angle, and with his luck, he doubts it's only a case of a busted thrust control module.
With what little he's saved up from the under-the-table delivery job he'd barely managed to snag by begging one of the local business owners—the job he'd been driving home from moments ago—his chances of affording the replacement part he'll need to keep said job are looking slim to zero. Between the costs of fuel and regular maintenance for the bike on top of his own personal needs, he's barely able to grasp onto a few spare dollars of each paycheck as it is.
But the part can be a problem later. He'll figure it out, or he'll find another job that doesn't require driving… that he can somehow still commute to with no transportation but his own two feet... But he's gotten this far, and the world isn't about to take him down after all the sacrifices he's made to do so.
Shiro's going to be so pissed when he finds out what Keith let happen to his bike while he was away.
Shiro's fucking dead.
He doesn't realize how wobbly his balance is until he tries to squat down to get a better look at the thruster in the hopes of finding something that just needs to be bent back into place. He's laid out flat on his ass on his way down, ratcheting up the pain in his arm as he absentmindedly uses it to help break his fall. He realizes then how much he's shaking.
Shit, shit, shit.