[ There's a veil over the world, something of a side effect of the dreamless chemical sleep Charles had entered into several moments after men in bluewhite scrubs tipped him onto his stomach and placed a strange smelling cup over his airways, telling him to breathe deep and slow. Streaks blur across his vision if he drags it through the room too fast, the place sterile and foreign with a disorienting lack of landmarks. Not so much as a painting or chair, more's the pity.
Senses dulled, he gets his arms under him planning to push up, look for a pitcher of water to drown out the terrific case of cottonmouth the anesthetic has left him with, but there's a sharp reminder that life still lives in him, a small explosion of pain simmering where he can feel the fresh sutures holding him together. Wincing audibly, his arms give so he can curl into himself, deal with what hurt breaks through the fog of what's surely morphine dripping in the IV, slowing him down, while it takes a moment to remember just why the motion is left half undone. ]
Charles? [ Erik is on his feet, but it's a fraction too late to stop the telepath from hurting himself, by all accounts. One of Erik's hands curl along the metal bar of the bed, the other dragging light across his cheek, worry pinching across his brow. ] What is it? Is it the pain? Do you need me to get the doctor?
[ Sensation delayed, at first it's a little like he's speaking to someone next to Charles rather than to him, touching someone else's skin that Charles is mentally eavesdropping on. It's a good deal easier to distract himself form the disturbing feeling of not being at home in his own body, Erik's features settling into place with the picture he holds in his head, Charles licking his lips futilely and slurring noticeably. ] I'm - no, I'm fine, it was a stupid mistake. I was looking for some water, actually.
[ His heart constricts, gaze cutting left to where there's a bed trolley that one of the nurses left behind. ] I'll get it for you, all right? There's some water here.
[ He pulls back only to pluck the plastic cup from the side, pour some water into it. Ice cubes are half melting in the surface of the jug and he's glad for a moment that they don't clink when he shakes. ] Let me help, the morphine's not going to help you keep hold of this.
[ Erik doesn't think it wise to aid him into sitting, because he's going to know within a heartbeat, so he simply steps closer, his hand going to settle under Charles' head, bring the glass to him instead of stressing him out. ] Easy.
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Senses dulled, he gets his arms under him planning to push up, look for a pitcher of water to drown out the terrific case of cottonmouth the anesthetic has left him with, but there's a sharp reminder that life still lives in him, a small explosion of pain simmering where he can feel the fresh sutures holding him together. Wincing audibly, his arms give so he can curl into himself, deal with what hurt breaks through the fog of what's surely morphine dripping in the IV, slowing him down, while it takes a moment to remember just why the motion is left half undone. ]
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[ He pulls back only to pluck the plastic cup from the side, pour some water into it. Ice cubes are half melting in the surface of the jug and he's glad for a moment that they don't clink when he shakes. ] Let me help, the morphine's not going to help you keep hold of this.
[ Erik doesn't think it wise to aid him into sitting, because he's going to know within a heartbeat, so he simply steps closer, his hand going to settle under Charles' head, bring the glass to him instead of stressing him out. ] Easy.
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