Recovery, that Nerys could understand--from being sick as hell, from getting hurt, and from being wounded. Sometimes all three at once, which was anything but pleasant. Now it seemed like 'being shot, then waking up drowning' was going to get added to the list of life experiences she would have rather not had.

She nodded a little in empathy, bringing one knee up and pressing her foot against the door, stretching aching thigh muscles. "Just wanted to make sure you were hanging in there--my doctoring skills end at a fireman's carry, triage, and keeping people from bleeding out," she admitted with a wry snort, then wondered if that wasn't exactly the best way to introduce herself to someone.

"My name's Nerys," she said, biting her lip a little. "And yeah, likewise. This seems to be making less and less sense by the minute--like a fever dream meeting a hangover."