Re: X-Men Medlab; Jean & Bucky
[He didn't want to lay back. He wanted to get up and move. There was an itch under his skin that said he needed to move, to clear this room and its glare.
He could breathe again, which was good, and after a moment, his fingers started working again, the stultifying effect that had passed over him fading away. He pulled the oxygen mask from his face and let it drop.] Mansion? [Disoriented and distant, he needed a place to ground him. This was the woman, the redhead - the - Jean, yes, that was her name. She had done something. Had it been her? Mutants could do that sort of thing, some of them. He swallowed hard and, slowly, lay down again. His heartbeat had slowed, but almost every muscles was tensed. It was fight or flight, no question, but suppressed, a trained slowing of breathing and heart rate, a quieting of the body without a quieting of the mind, which still ran.
He looked up at her. She was still blurry, but he could make out her face now. A concussion, based on the ache in his head. A greenish blue bruise had blossomed on the side of his face, but in the few hours he'd been unconscious, the swelling had gone down almost entirely.
Nothing was broken. His ribs ached, but bruises only. Cataloging hurts made it easier to shut out the room. Taking stock of his physical condition was a ritual he could still follow, even though the pain never seemed to connect with anything anymore.
For a second, though, in the hall -
The pain in his head grew splintering. It was too much at once, the concussion, trying to remember what he'd grasped onto when he hit his head, trying to decide how quickly he could clear this building if he had to.]