When all he could do was lay on the floor and bleed while they kicked and broke him, or snarl and try to bite fruitlessly when they went to take their frustrations out on someone else. Yeah, he supposed that was a correct assessment, even if it meant just about as much as 'sorry'. He knew worthless empty words when he heard them.

But sometimes that was all anyone had.

He struggled, fumbling inexpertly with tired and slow hands. Eventually he managed to slosh enough water into the cup to be considered a drink, the rest all over the bedside table. After a drink his parched throat felt better and his tongue less like sandpaper, maybe he could get a few more words out.

Cradling the cup on his lap, the one good eye swiveled up to try to read his face. Right now Tony lacked the mental prowess to pick out subtleties in demeanor and expression or he might have asked why Cesar wouldn't look at him. He just figured he was too much a mess. "Mm," It wasn't really agreement, just a noncommittal noise to indicate that he was still listening. He just had nothing really valuable to say in response.

Please continue, while Tony was currently a terrible host he didn't mind lending an ear. Even if it wasn't one that could follow very well right now.