Ryouma really could have used an adrenaline rush. His body refused to give him one. He fought his way semi-upright with more of a wallow than a surge, seized Kakashi's wrist in turn before he gave the male nurse permanent nerve damage, and divided his best attempt at a forbidding glare between the burly man and the middle-aged woman tugging at Tsume.

Its effectiveness was badly undermined by the glimpse he'd caught of tan skin and writhing seals. Kuromaru was still in human form. Battered, bandaged, breathing through a tube. Ryouma's throat ached.

"She bites," he told the woman, forcing his gaze back to her. He couldn't quite focus properly on her kind, lined face; his vision swam oddly, and his eyes burned. "She'll bite you. And he'll--fall over on you. Look, just squish the beds together or something, can't you? They've got this thing about smell. And--"

If I fall asleep, I don't want to wake up alone.

He blinked hard, and rubbed at his eyes. "I could do with that Vicodin now," he told the ancient doctor pottering around the room. "Or, better yet, a soldier pill."

His eyes slid back to Kuromaru. He jerked them away again. Tsume was okay, and she seemed satisfied that her dog was okay, too. There was nothing he could do. Not even apologize.

He's missing half his face.