Dave wakes up feeling like he just went toe to toe with some variant of Jack Noir again. Sort of. Physically, he kinda feels fine. No body parts are hurting, his muscles aren't sore or anything. But there's a sense of exhaustion that feels anchored in his fucking bones, and as he tries to sit up a little ow okay he also has a killer headache.
The pounding headache definitely isn't helped by the sterile white room and bright lighting, worse than normal because he's missing his ever-present shades. Someone must have taken them off for him.
It's that thought that reminds him of the lead-in to this situation, being carried by the Chief atop a dying Wash, crashing on through the threshold gate and towards the medbay, straining to keep the little bubble of frozen time around Wash going until he couldn't even see straight anymore and blacked out somewhere in the last leg of the trip.
Right. Fuck. Wash.
For a moment there's a surge of panic in him, not knowing what had happened after that. Shit, Wash would have started bleeding out again as soon as he was out cold, did they make it the rest of the way to the medbay in time--
Dave forces himself upright, ignoring the way it makes his head throb like a motherfucker, whipping around and... Oh. There's Wash. Cool.
Groaning as the headache hits him properly, Dave drops his head against his knees. "Hey," he manages after a few moments, voice muffled against the sheets draped over his legs. "Look at that, you survived a sniper shot to the fucking chest. Better be getting the goddamn Purple Heart for this shit."
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The pounding headache definitely isn't helped by the sterile white room and bright lighting, worse than normal because he's missing his ever-present shades. Someone must have taken them off for him.
It's that thought that reminds him of the lead-in to this situation, being carried by the Chief atop a dying Wash, crashing on through the threshold gate and towards the medbay, straining to keep the little bubble of frozen time around Wash going until he couldn't even see straight anymore and blacked out somewhere in the last leg of the trip.
Right. Fuck. Wash.
For a moment there's a surge of panic in him, not knowing what had happened after that. Shit, Wash would have started bleeding out again as soon as he was out cold, did they make it the rest of the way to the medbay in time--
Dave forces himself upright, ignoring the way it makes his head throb like a motherfucker, whipping around and... Oh. There's Wash. Cool.
Groaning as the headache hits him properly, Dave drops his head against his knees. "Hey," he manages after a few moments, voice muffled against the sheets draped over his legs. "Look at that, you survived a sniper shot to the fucking chest. Better be getting the goddamn Purple Heart for this shit."