His head was swimming, foggy through the haze of pain. He couldn't remember anything solid after diving off the side of the boat. There were snatches of course--- clinging to that piece of debris, kicking until his legs burned with bone-deep fire, struggling against the current and the sucking swell of the ship as parts of it submerged. He remembered thinking about Casper and wishing she'd died in the explosion, not a quick thing but maybe a horrible slow one where her skin blistered and peeled off and her eyeballs exploded from the heat and ran down her cheeks in gummy rivulets like that scene in that Indiana Jones movie. He had a lot of anger issues about that.
But he couldn't remember smacking his head on the edge of the lifeboat, only that there was a throbbing, aching feeling in his skull that was shaking him in its jaws like an angry tiger.
Slowly he heard sounds through the haze, a muffled voice that sounded like it was coming through layers and layers of fabric. ...ike. Oo awake, ike?
His sandy-blonde lashes fluttered slightly, his eyes cracking open just the tiniest bit. His pupils immediately contracted despite the diluted, inconsistent light and he closed them again to brace himself. God, this wasn't going to help his headache any. He reached up a hand and touched his brow; bandages there of some kind, and his head was very tender to the touch. It felt like someone had whaled him with a meat tenderizer.
"...ami?" he muttered, his throat clicking from dehydration, his eyes cracking open again. Everything swam for a second before focusing; a cute redhead was leaning over him and it took a minute to place her. Ah yes. The cabin suite. The rich guy's girl.
"...head..." Mike croaked, wincing a little. He didn't try to sit up just yet; he knew he'd puke if he did.