[ It might be the concussion, but it takes Enjolras a few moments to process through what exactly he's been told. "A ditch" feels more than a little bit of a euphemism, given the subsequent explanation of the fall's results...that however, he can believe all too well. Even lying flat, barely able to look back at his scraggly savior in the corner of his eye, he can feel the sharp, throbbing ache of the various broken parts of his body. ]

I--thank you. For the food, saving me, all of it. [ He feels like an idiot, lying flat on his back, staring up at rock and trying to come up with a meaningful way to pass on his gratitude to a total stranger. ] I hadn't realized I'd already been out the long. I may need some help with the food, if I'm not supposed to move...if I can impose on you further.

[ There's another pause while he tries in vain to fight the thought persistently nagging at him, making his head throb even worse. ] You live here? How do you survive the nights?