Ugh... may the gods of luck have mercy on me!

[ Wait, why did he say that? He's not a religious man -- and he certainly knows of no gods of luck. He's too worked up to think much about it, not with the screaming of his muscles, working double-time to keep him up as long as possible. ]

Okay! Here I go!

[ He hangs there. ]

Here... I go.

[ His knuckles turn white. He squeezes his eyes shut. ]

Ethlyn, I just want you to know that this is very scary, and if I snap my neck and die, I'm absolutely coming back to haunt everyone who has ever wronged me. Which isn't you, incidentally, but you might see me around. At least I'll be a very handsome ghost.

[ Okay, he's very clearly stalling. But after a little more rambling, he kicks off of the wall so that he can get some distance between himself and the debris of the stairs, arms curled over his head, and lands with a massive thump in the midst of the soft clothing.

He doesn't land with a snap, per se. But there is something of a crunch, and then a quiet moan of pain. ]

I'm not dead, [ he informs her, voice muffled. ] More's the pity.