This would have been really, super duper awkward without that curtain there. This wasn't familiar for Sitwell at all; if he got banged up on the field, he usually ended up with a room to himself for the night and no neighbours to trade embarrassing war stories with. Usually, the entire world wasn't in need of a hospital bed. And this one really shouldn't have been his; he had come out of that whole helicarrier crash in surprisingly good shape for it being a whole helicarrier crash, and his slow zombie recovery still taking its toll even as the engines were ripped off. Instead, he survived to fight another day and get trapped in a burning building that was supposed to be an easy hey, how are you doing, we're here from S.H.I.E.L.D. and just wanted to make sure you weren't undead. And they weren't-- this was really embarrassing-- but they were scared, and didn't want what to buy Sitwell was selling.
So he was laid up, still a little out of it, most of his back crawling with pain and the rest of him feeling ice cold and thanking the thoughtful person who put curtains in these places. He could watch them sway gently and listen without too much shame to the conversations his roommate had with her veritable parade of visitors-- three more than Sitwell had received, anyway. But that was good for her, because he was pretty sure she had been crying earlier, and he definitely didn't know how to deal with that. And it was all a bit surreal, low, gentle voices, some passion and a bunch of names he didn't recognize, like catching a soap opera on an odd day off without anything better to do. Comforting.
Eventually, unfortunately, Sitwell did have to creak his way to his feet, gritting his teeth against the way any movement seemed to mercilessly pull the skin on his back out of place, and limp his way toward their shared bathroom. Out from behind the curtain, he could get a look at her-- not really what he expected from her voice, but familiar, he knew he should have known her-- and smile anxiously while he gestured at the washroom's door, not sure if there was some kind of roomie protocol with this kind of thing or if he could just take it when he needed it. He would be quick, anyway, and when was there bathroom protocol? Never, that wasn't a thing. Jeez. Three seconds with her and he already looked like a freak.