[Squeezes her hand a little, and lets go so he can stand and go wash his face, feeling rather like he's been run over by a truck. He wants a drink and then to sleep for a century, more or less.
He manages to wrap some bandages around his middle, and comes back into the room looking a little more composed, only to gesture for her to follow, since he'll go flop down on his bed.]
I'd get the couch, but I don't fit on it. [Not if he's lying face-down.]