Farogil forces himself to sit up about the time she clears her throat, and to pull his hands away from his face to check for blood. There's none, but he dabs around his eyebrow and temple a few times just to make sure.

"My eye," he fusses as he squints up at Fíadh, still rubbing at it like that would somehow help the pain. Faro's not mad, just... confused, stunned. Bewildered. He turns that pained squinting towards Lance and gives him a weak thumbs up.

Yeah, he's alright. Technically.