"Saint Milburga, I'm sure..." Chris snarks back. One of their hands is scraped and just beginning to bleed. They use the other one to boost themselves up, and -- once standing -- to dust off their clothes.

"I didn't hurt you when I ran into you, did I?" they ask, in a milder tone. A cursory glance at their hand lets them know it's a very minor injury, so they're ignoring it for now.