"Miguel, right." She saw him point to his head while he spoke in Spanish. "No, the meds took care of the head pounding, thanks." She pointed to the goose-egg that was slowly un-swelling. Was that a word? "Had worse." She pointed to the other side and used her good hand to hold her hair up, showing the criss-cross of scars where the doctors had fixed up her skull nice a neat.
"I'm looking for the hospital. Um... Medico? Sorry, the only Spanish I know for sure is food and a dirty word. Communication is disturbed by lack of comprehension," she giggled. "What we have here is a failure to comfornicate."
She paused, listening to something. "Can you hear the singing? Out of tune, or too many tunes mashed into one music soup. It's wrong, you know. Off. Off course. Main course. I'm hungry, too."