Twix was falling down and down, darkness surrounded him, he couldn't see anything, he could land in a moment or a year-

Cold water splashed across his face, the falling stopped abruptly and Twix remembering where last he lay flung himself sideways.

All well and good, if he had not been lying on a table. He hit the floor with a clatter of falling chairs and maybe a glass or two.

"MOTHER FUCK"

From his fantastic vantage point on the floor Twix thought he recognized the Pumphouse, empty now apart from him and hopefully his rescuer. The good news was his headache had burned out, the bad news was self evident in the bandages rapping his wounds, he grimaced as he stood up.

Across the table stood his rescuer, scraggly beard/stubble and all.

Twix was slightly dismayed to find he'd lost his Gun, Knife and Gasmask, luckily when he reached up to his head he found his bobble hat still in place and when his stomach sent up it's protests at being ignored for so long he found his rabbit, slightly worse for wear hanging off his belt.

Twix's eyes met his rescuers across the table and he let his mouth quirk upwards in a smile

"Hey, names Twix, seems like I owe you thanks?" He gestured to the bandages, introductions began Twix picked up one of the chairs he'd knocked down, clenching his teeth at the sharp spike of pain it elicited from his chest, Twix seated himself and tore a piece off the rabbit, after wiping it clear of dirt on his coat he popped it in his mouth.