Clark nearly dropped the tray full of lunch as he scanned the room and saw a familiar face.

Kvothe!

Hurrying over, trying to keep his tray balanced and not have it tip over onto someone's head, the farmboy sat down across from him, his face creased with worry as he studied the other kid. Kvothe was bandaged up, but he still looked terrible in the cafeteria's light. At least he was alive, though, right?

"I'm really sorry about last night," Clark said. "How're you holding up?"