Greg felt a little swoop in his gut at the thought of losing an entire day - twelve hours, Jesus - but that was silly, wasn't it? He was fine, he was here. There was nothing to be afraid of. All of that had passed him by while he was unconscious. As disconcerting as that was, it was over. No doubt the doctors would come in and tell him all about it, soon enough. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He swallowed clumsily. "No. That's - she can come by later, if she likes. Rather not wake up to that." He dropped his eyes for a moment, smoothing the sheet over the side of the bed. He was tired enough now; he couldn't imagine if she were there. "Thanks. But - did you get knocked over the head, or what?" He's hoarse and he can only imagine he looks like hell, but he manages a skeptical look, arching an eyebrow sharply at him. "You're the one who dragged me out of a firefight. How's it you owe me anything?"

He'd never been the best at maths, but this seemed like some pretty simple addition, to him. He tried to cough some of the soreness out of his throat, and winced. "I'm the one who'd still be lying on the street."