He wasn't even struck directly, and he wasn't paying attention to other people more than necessary when it happened, so he frankly has no idea what just hit him. Not in specific. He'll see later on the TV screens of the Capitol, but right now everything in pain and burning. There are some tears in his costume, and spots of red blood; little splinters and chips of wood have embedded into him on the side that had faced toward the strike.

He feels more than hears as Shepard shows up to dole mud and dust onto his clothes, and while the lack of being on fire is welcome, it doesn't stop him from hissing at the irritation to what damage his skin has sustained.

"What--Shepard?" He sees her hovering over him, and moving, cut out against the bleak sky, and he sees her mouth working too. "Shepard, I can't h..."

He cuts off with another hiss as she pulls him up. He finds that, whoa, he really can't move, even as he tries to shift his limbs to either push at her or hold tighter. What should he be doing? Everything hurts, and he winds up with a face full of crinoline, and he can't make sense of what the hell is going on. She hauls him off the ground with a dizzying rush.

"Stop spinning," he groans as his eyes squeeze shut, and he still can't hear a damn thing.