About a half hour later, Trowa still had no idea where (or when) he was. His head felt like it had been wrapped in a scratchy cotton blanket, while his face felt swollen from gravity pulling blood into it due to his position—apparently, Heavyarms had landed mostly kneeling. Except for the faceplant.
Even besides that, Trowa’s shoulder was blazing with pain. He’d have to fix that before he had a hope of making Heavyarms sit up enough that the external sensors would be able to pick up anything except… apparently, sand with a number of rocks.
He had indeed been trained to pilot his Gundam even through intense, debilitating pain; but that wasn’t of any use when he couldn’t even move his arm… but he didn’t think it was a complete dislocation. Just a subluxation. If the ball of his humerous is already halfway inside the socket, then Trowa could basically just shove it back in.
With a pad of gauze between his teeth, he maneuvered so that his shoulder was pressed against a part of his chair… and shoved. It wasn’t what a doctor would do, but he didn’t have the time to do gentle maneuvers, nor immediate access to painkillers without possibly putting his shoulder further out of the socket as he got them.
The socket popped back into the bone with a wet, solid ‘thucking’ noise that was as much felt as heard, and Trowa merely hung there for a moment, panting, before he rotated it gently—hissing as it twinged in protest—and grasped his controls.
Time to sit upright and see where he and Heavyarms were.