7 hadn't been in the best of shape when Eddie dropped her off, having no prior experience with getting sick and originally planning on riding it out in her house. Finally resting in a bed, she shifts in and out of sleep, the world seemingly melting between the hospital interior and some broken, scorched rubble of her own world, or an odd mix of the two. Every moment she thought she heard the scrape of metal against metal, saw the glow of a red eye, or the soft shift of a shutter optic.

Rare moments, she actually has some sense of lucidity, and it's in one of those that she gradually wakes up as someone is dabbing a cool, wet cloth on her forehead. She turns to see who, and smiles slightly at Altaïr .

"Water in this amount, I can handle." Her voice rasps against her sore throat, prompting a couple light coughs, but she tries to hold back any more. "You're good?"