"I bet, only having that fucker's ugly face to look at the last three months," Apollo said, flashing him a grin as he came around the side of the bed to look at Hermes a little closer. He did miss the old days when patient's charts used to hang off the end of their beds, when he could flick through and see what the doctors thought was going on. Now everything was loaded up onto tablets that were much harder to pry into; it was easier to sweettalk the exhausted medical staff for the inside story. Or ask the patients themselves. Apollo dropped himself languorously into the chair beside Hermes' bed. "What kind of damage are we looking at?"