Cloud knew that Sephiroth had no magic at all in this state, but he was fine with that. It was pleasant enough to know that his Weapon had come for him at great risk to the ex-General's own well-being. If he was a little banged up, that was a price to pain for what had happened and had kept his life.

He did as he was instructed, resting his arm across his thighs as he leaned more heavily against the stone wall. Even trying to twitch his fingers created a sort of odd agony. He hadn't had anything broken for long enough to really be that concerned about it. Materia was generally always on hand to make it right so he could keep fighting. "Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice, though... I guess this means that any snow angel I make won't have one arm."

He shifted his head so that he could lean it against Sephiroth's chest, nodding his head at the words. "Not with that wing, you won't. You might be able to ignore the pain, but I can feel it in our link," he murmured, peering up at the silver-haired man. "I'm more likely to die of exposure right now than a broken bone. Stay with me and let's keep as warm as possible."