"The consequences of my own actions!" he sputter-laughs, but ends it in a gasp of pain. "Ow. Fuck."

Betelgeuse is lying sprawled like a diseased starfish, an arm draped over a higher stair and another being used to prop himself up lest he slip again. His clothing is still smoky and all of his fingertips are blackened and oozing.

Despite all this, he winks at Callisto.

"Come here often?"