[ They give him pain medication first, and that changes everything.
Endo wouldn't call the experience fun, but compared to his two unmedicated journeys, one of which consisted in part of a hand at his ribs, he's having a fine time. All the tests, x-rays, MRIs are annoying at best, but pretty tolerable with the aid of meds. He's actually in a pretty good mood when everything is done and the nurses finally deposit him on a bed for the foreseeable future. And since they also stabilized his arm with a splint-and-sling combo, Endo's only real complaint is his ribs. But that's exactly what another dose of medication is for.
Once he's actually settled in bed, without his pain being a huge deciding factor in everything he does, he pretty much immediately falls asleep. It turns out that getting beaten around by a god and suffering from untended injuries for a little bit too long is exhausting. His sleep is deep, dreamless, and only interrupted when Accelerator returns.
At the sound of his greeting, Endo awakens with an expression of pure confusion, as though he expected to wake up back at home, or at the very least alone. Then, with subdued surprise: ]
You came back.
[ Originally, Endo was sure he would, what with his whole hero complex, the guilt factor, and the fact that Endo was clearly growing on him a little. But with heavy pain meds and the confusion of sleep mixed in, Endo remembered that he's a pretty bad judge of character, generally speaking, and he's also kind of not great at holding on to the things he wants. It's not that he lost confidence in himself so much as he forgot he'd already made plans and contingencies, that seeds were planted, that he had pretty much taken care of everything before conking out. In the immediacy of waking up, he felt as though he had a lot more to do than he already had.
But since that's clearly not an issue, he decides to enjoy his past self's work and relax into a much more typical, if somewhat sloppy, smile.
And immediately put Accelerator to work. ]
Hey, can you grab me that water?
[ He points at a hospital-issued jug of water that's sitting on a small table out of Endo's reach, thanks to the many machines to which he's currently connected. The jug is nice and full, and Endo has yet to take a sip. He's on nothing by mouth orders, which means he isn't supposed to be eating or drinking anything, as he may need surgery. But Endo hasn't had water in what feels like days, and he doubts he's going to need anything more than a cast and some meds to go. His real plan is to discharge himself as soon as he can.
But explaining this to Accelerator may lead him to refuse the water, and right now, hydration is all Endo wants. The phone, the wallet, basking in the fact that Accelerator looks as though he might be settling in for the long haul — all that can wait until he's had a sip. Or ten. ]
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Endo wouldn't call the experience fun, but compared to his two unmedicated journeys, one of which consisted in part of a hand at his ribs, he's having a fine time. All the tests, x-rays, MRIs are annoying at best, but pretty tolerable with the aid of meds. He's actually in a pretty good mood when everything is done and the nurses finally deposit him on a bed for the foreseeable future. And since they also stabilized his arm with a splint-and-sling combo, Endo's only real complaint is his ribs. But that's exactly what another dose of medication is for.
Once he's actually settled in bed, without his pain being a huge deciding factor in everything he does, he pretty much immediately falls asleep. It turns out that getting beaten around by a god and suffering from untended injuries for a little bit too long is exhausting. His sleep is deep, dreamless, and only interrupted when Accelerator returns.
At the sound of his greeting, Endo awakens with an expression of pure confusion, as though he expected to wake up back at home, or at the very least alone. Then, with subdued surprise: ]
You came back.
[ Originally, Endo was sure he would, what with his whole hero complex, the guilt factor, and the fact that Endo was clearly growing on him a little. But with heavy pain meds and the confusion of sleep mixed in, Endo remembered that he's a pretty bad judge of character, generally speaking, and he's also kind of not great at holding on to the things he wants. It's not that he lost confidence in himself so much as he forgot he'd already made plans and contingencies, that seeds were planted, that he had pretty much taken care of everything before conking out. In the immediacy of waking up, he felt as though he had a lot more to do than he already had.
But since that's clearly not an issue, he decides to enjoy his past self's work and relax into a much more typical, if somewhat sloppy, smile.
And immediately put Accelerator to work. ]
Hey, can you grab me that water?
[ He points at a hospital-issued jug of water that's sitting on a small table out of Endo's reach, thanks to the many machines to which he's currently connected. The jug is nice and full, and Endo has yet to take a sip. He's on nothing by mouth orders, which means he isn't supposed to be eating or drinking anything, as he may need surgery. But Endo hasn't had water in what feels like days, and he doubts he's going to need anything more than a cast and some meds to go. His real plan is to discharge himself as soon as he can.
But explaining this to Accelerator may lead him to refuse the water, and right now, hydration is all Endo wants. The phone, the wallet, basking in the fact that Accelerator looks as though he might be settling in for the long haul — all that can wait until he's had a sip. Or ten. ]