Menachem had been in hell, and finally he'd gotten out, but that was an adventure best not mentioned at the moment. He wanted to forget about it, but now was found in a doctor's office. He was feeling hot and disgusting, while his clearly damaged foot was propped up. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, he'd fought so hard to not die even as tempting as it was, he wouldn't give in.

He pulled off the filthy shirt that was scrapped up and coated in mud and who knows what that was dropped down the well from the kids during his time in that well. He used the cleanest spot he could to try to wipe the sweat from his face and breathed deeply waiting for the doctor to get to him soon. He finally looked over when he heard a noise and his heavy lidded eyes focused on him.

"Help me before I die, Doc. I don't have much, but I have family..." He wasn't sure if he could guilt Zechariah as he was buried in his thoughts as the cruel one. But Uriel was in town right? Definitely far better choice in assisting if he didn't feel like cutting him off because he'd figure this was his own fault. His baby brother wouldn't do such a thing right? He was still sore from the last time he'd seen Nesah. Everyone in his family thinking they were better than him might have made him too angry to let something like half starving and a broken foot in a well take him out.

The lady who came out of Tristan's office into the waiting room gave a short shriek and covered her mouth and nose with her handkerchief. She quickly left the building. Tristan had followed her out into the waiting room and was already kneeling by Menachem's side. "Tell me what happened," he said. He took the man's wrist to feel his pulse. Then he put a hand on his forehead.

Feeling like he was finally going to be helped, he closed his eyes in exhaustion and his head lolled back. "I... fell down..an old..damned well. Was there.. for days.. Ratty kids.. tossed old food and things I won't even mention." He growled weakly and tried to wipe the sweat again. "My foot's been trapped.. I think it's broken..hurts like hell normally.. kinda feels more numb since I got out but still can wiggle my toes..' He didn't know what his foot looked like other than it was limp but the tip of the foot still moved on command. He took a deep breath as sleep threatened to claim him and he felt so warm. "I'm a damned mess.. that.. crazy woman.. found me.. I'd have..died in there ... otherwise." He managed to get out.

"Lie back here on the bench," he said. It was better not to move the man until he had properly inspected him. His heart rate was up and the man seemed to have a fever, but otherwise, that at least seemed fine. He rose and locked the door to outside, so no patients would come into the waiting room. Then he went into the office and returned with a pillow. "Here, put this under your foot for now. You must be terribly dehydrated. I'll get you some water."

Menachem immediately laid back and did as the other asked. He winced as he was covered in some light bruising and scrapes. He placed his foot on the pillow and sighed starting to relax a little. "I can't .. thank you enough. I am parched." He laughed weakly and sat up to try to put his shirt back on so he'd be decent. If he sweat too much again, the doctor could get a towel or something. "It's been hell, please... give me some good news. Right at this moment, you look like an angel." Menachem laughed weakly. Almost everyone he knew could be considered an angel at the moment if they offered him clean water.

"The good news is that you're in a doctor's office now and I won't dismiss you until we're patched you up," the angel said.

He left and returned with a jug of water and a glass. He had added a bit of syrup to it. He poured a glass and then set the jug down. "Here, sit up," he said reaching out to assist the man in sitting up slowly. "Drink this. Slowly, just a few sips at first and see how your stomach handles it." The last thing he needed was for the man to throw up and lose more water, or worse, for his stomach to start bleeding.

"Thanks, doctor. " Was all he said as he waited. When the man returned, he eyed the water and grunted as he sat up slowly. He leaned on one arm to keep himself stead as he grabbed a glass. He took a small slip, not even a mouthful and swallowed. While the water sat in his stomach he took a moment and breathed deeply. "I swear, I'm gonna murder those damned brats that knew I was down there and didn't pull me out or get help .Just you wait." He said to the doctor. It wasn't true, but he was definitely gonna scare the shit out of them one way or another for what they did to him.

He took another small sip of water.

"Don't focus on them for now," said Tristan, while he still held the man up and helped him drink. Certainly, the language was a bit shocking, but he couldn't blame the man for his anger, given the state he was in. Anyway, Tristan didn't think he was serious. "How is your head. Did you have any injuries to the head during your fall or after?"

He grumbled but took the doctor's advice and let it go, for the moment. He took small sips of the water and then took a break to make sure it wouldn't make him sick.

At the question on head injuries, he pulled back some of the hair to show a slight bruise and a nasty scrape. "Don't think it's too bad. I've not had any double vision or black outs that I know of. Anything else to look out for?" He said with a sour mood though it wasn't directed at the doctor. "I only know that much cause I went to a doctor before from a head injury because I used to get into fights sometimes."

"Well, I hope you won't get into fights with some kids, nasty as they may have been." He put the glass on the bench beside the man. "Allow me," he said and he reached out to feel different parts of the man's skull, starting with the area nearest to the wound and moving out, looking for bumps or pressure points. "Anywhere it hurts?"