Almost helplessly, Reynion allowed Lira to assist him onto a stool. He sighed. What was it about having a wooden leg that made women of all races suddenly want to treat him as a child. It didn't help that most of the room was staring at them, nor that his head was ringing from the unintentional blow from Morlathion.
He took his leg from her, not without a protest on her part, and began to refasten it. The straps were not cooperating, and his fingers weren't either. He almost cursed, but decided that he'd done enough of that, thank you, this afternoon. Not to mention that it would only draw more attention. It was one thing when people disliked him, but another to be stared at, as though he were a creature in a menagerie.
"Can I help you with that?" asked Lira, concerned that he couldn't handle it, no doubt.
"I think I can get it," he replied absently and tugged at another piece of the leather. Finally, it was starting to fit together and with a last pull, the leather cup snugged tight against what was left of his thigh.
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