[ And that's the opening he needs, to kick and squirm and wriggle his way off the bed, make some distance between them. His heart is hammering wildly, flooding his veins with adrenaline and he may still be without his communicator but he's not without a weapon.
Wielding blunt objects one handed isn't the easiest thing in the world, but the bedside table lamp is at least light enough for the task. He grabs it firmly by the base, swinging swiftly to try and clock Clay over the head while he still has the chance. ]