Someone sat next to him. He honestly couldn't tell whom. Nigel hadn't even come down to the match. He could hear Pete's voice not next to him. Dark and depressive Amber was more likely to kick him in the head while he was down so low, than to sit next to him. He didn't open his eyes as she touched his arm. He did move to take her hand in his, and scooted and leaned to lay his head on her shoulder. "I'm fine." He said, with a little glare out of the corner of his eyes. He wasn't one of her animals. He was a young man with a broken nose and a splitting headache who'd just worked too hard playing quidditch four hours. 

"Nobody is touching my face." Nat grumbled, as Pete tried to get one of the men to help him.  He didn't want anyone fixing his face. He liked his nose a little crooked, it gave his face character. Nobody was fixing, not if he could help it. No one needed to be fixing. He was just fine. His head was pounding, and he was still seeing stars even with his eyes open. But it was nothing finishing the match and some drinks wouldn't fix. 

He shifted pressing his forehead against Caitlin's neck. "Stop moving, you're comfy. I said stop moving Cait." He groaned. "I broke my face for the team… the least you can do is make a good pillow."