The battle had been rough. He hadn't fought in it, didn't have the skills to, but he'd watched, as he always did. And then when the time came to clear out citizens, he had done so as well as he could. It wasn't his forte, swooping in and rescuing people, but he'd done it anyway. Because that was part of his job.
Somewhere in the fray he thought he'd saw a familiar face, and so now here he was, making sure his friend was still alive. Which he was, thank god. And apparently quite grumpy, according to the nurses.
So Q knocks cautiously on the door and pokes his head in, "How're you, then?"