Keith stumbled up to the front desk, his face pale and his entire body shaking. He clutched an ice pack to a heavily bleeding hand, and the rest of his arm was wrapped in the remains of his shirt. Which was alos soaked in blood. When he reached the desk he nearly collapsed onto it. "I uh...I'm kind of injured," he said, not even having the energy to look up and see who he was talking to.
He had thought hiding in the kitchens was a good idea, too. So many pointy things to stab people with. Too bad he had forgotten that he wasn't immune to pointy things.
he pushed his bloodied arm across the table and hesitantly unwound some of the shirt. "Knives. Animated. Got me across the arm," he said, showing a long, deep gash in his arm. You could even see the bone if you looked hard enough. "And I think..." he said, pulling away the ice pack, "no, it's still on." He held up his hand to show his middle finger hanging onto his hand by a thread. The movement however, only served to weaken the already overworked thread, which promptly snapped. "Ah, there it goes," Keith said. "I think I'm in shock."
And then he passed out.