God, it's a relief to be rid of the shackles. Ravel doesn't even stop to consider the full ramifications of getting the bloody thing off his wrist beyond the obvious--a full range of motion, he's no longer connected to Skulduggery, and he no longer has both arms limited in some way.

...speaking of which.

It's been three weeks now, and though his shoulder still twinges from time to time where the glass had bit into his flesh down to the bone, three weeks is surely enough time to heal. He lays the shackles down near Anton and slips his left arm out of the sling, dropping the restraint to the ground as well. Rolls his shoulders.

He'd still rather be here with Anton, but Erskine can't even claim to know if he could keep the man alive until a healer arrives. Besides, he's not going to die. The most he'd be doing is keeping him company, and maybe he's of more use this way instead. Ravel leans down to grip Anton by the shoulder, then nods to Skulduggery.

"Let's go."