[He forces himself up more and it hurts, it hurts so much. He ignores it. It's exhausting, draining, just trying to get himself to sit up. He ignores that, too.
He has to get up. He's only just awake, finally, and every instinct trained into him is screaming at him to get up.]
You already protected me, you absolute maniac. I don't need protecting right now, so you need to rest. [he sounds angry--angrier than he means to sound, probably, but such is the effect of fear]
[Oswald's upset. And Edward... doesn't understand. Oswald is fine, isn't he? He wasn't hurt. Edward protected him, just as he should.
Why should it matter if he almost died doing so?
He doesn't understand. And he can't quite hide that, looking visibly confused. But he doesn't try to get up again. Not when Oswald is reacting like this. He just... quietly lowers himself back down.]
[Honestly, it's a good thing Edward's doing as Oswald asked. He looks... exhausted. Truly and utterly drained and it's honestly a miracle he's woken up already.
Edward's just stubborn like that.
But not stubborn enough to keep himself awake now. He's just... so tired. He only means to rest his eyes for a second, really, but he just slips right back into sleep.]
[....Edward's breathing evens out. It's not the first time he's woken up and tried to get up, and Oswald slumps back down into the chair. He's...exhausted, too. Not anywhere near the state Edward is, but aside from just general worry and fear and panic, his magic's been getting restless. It had a taste again for the first time in decades, and he can feel it itching at his skin, wanting more. He's been repressing it, obviously, but it uses up a lot of energy, and Oswald is tired.
He pushes his face into his hands, breathing out another sigh, digging the meat of his palms into his eyes for a moment, before resting his head on the bed again. He'll just...pass out again, now.
When Edward wakes again, he'll find an unfamiliar older woman leaning over him, checking his pulse.]
[He wakes up slowly. That's... really the only reason why he doesn't react, at first, only looking up at the woman over him with bleary, unfocused eyes. It hasn't quite registered properly yet.]
[she glances up as he starts to open his eyes--and she arches an eyebrow] Welcome back, Mr. Nygma. [she sounds mildly amused, but even more so relieved] I didn't know whether that would be something I would be able to do, so I'm happy I can do so now.
[Edward instinctively pulls back, immediately on guard... and groans as he does. Ah, yeah, there's the pain. That's... not great. Why does everything hurt...?]
Woah, calm down. [she reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder] No sudden movements. It could aggravate your stitches. [she retracts her hand after a moment] I'm Dr. Thompkins. I've been taking care of you.
[He's tense as she touches his shoulder, still... wary, even after she tells him she's a doctor. Which makes... some amount of sense. But he just woke up and he's not in the most trusting headspace.]
Oh...
[He just... looks around the room, as much as he can. Priority one is figuring out where he is, where Oswald is, and any possible entrances and exits. Anything else is secondary.]
[entrances and exits consist of a door and a window. As for where he is and where Oswald is....Doctor Thompkins notices him looking around the room, and points out]--if you're looking for his Highness, he's over there. [she points him out, curled on a small servant's cot] It took me a lot of convincing to get him to sleep in an actual bed. We brought up that one because he wouldn't leave your side.
And Edward is... very much not. A fact which becomes very clear, very quickly, as he tries to adjust his arm slightly... only to quickly have a shooting pain in his shoulder. He grabs it with his other hand, unthinkingly, which disturbs the burns on his back and now that hurts like a bitch, too.
A pained noise escapes him and he breathes a little heavily.
[Lee can't help but sigh at that display, and now she sounds sincerely exasperated] Hopefully you're cognizant enough now to listen when I tell you that rest is crucial. No getting up and running for the door?
Not quite, no. About four steps short, actually. [Lee's tone is as dry as a desert.] But now that you're more lucid, I'm going to impress upon you the importance of staying in bed. You'll heal much faster.
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There is absolutely nothing to get ready for, Edward, and you need to keep resting.
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[He forces himself up more and it hurts, it hurts so much. He ignores it. It's exhausting, draining, just trying to get himself to sit up. He ignores that, too.
He has to get up. He's only just awake, finally, and every instinct trained into him is screaming at him to get up.]
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[Not that he can protect anything like this, when Oswald can just push him back down like it's nothing.]
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...'m worthless like this...
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Edward, you almost died, and I--[it chokes off in his throat, and he drops his head] --I couldn't do anything, so please. Rest.
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Why should it matter if he almost died doing so?
He doesn't understand. And he can't quite hide that, looking visibly confused. But he doesn't try to get up again. Not when Oswald is reacting like this. He just... quietly lowers himself back down.]
I-I'll... I'll try...
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Edward's just stubborn like that.
But not stubborn enough to keep himself awake now. He's just... so tired. He only means to rest his eyes for a second, really, but he just slips right back into sleep.]
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He pushes his face into his hands, breathing out another sigh, digging the meat of his palms into his eyes for a moment, before resting his head on the bed again. He'll just...pass out again, now.
When Edward wakes again, he'll find an unfamiliar older woman leaning over him, checking his pulse.]
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[Edward instinctively pulls back, immediately on guard... and groans as he does. Ah, yeah, there's the pain. That's... not great. Why does everything hurt...?]
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Oh...
[He just... looks around the room, as much as he can. Priority one is figuring out where he is, where Oswald is, and any possible entrances and exits. Anything else is secondary.]
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Thank god.]
...He's okay?
[He doesn't bother to ask about his own condition. What does that matter?]
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Yes. He's perfectly fine, thanks to you. Not a scratch on him.
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And Edward is... very much not. A fact which becomes very clear, very quickly, as he tries to adjust his arm slightly... only to quickly have a shooting pain in his shoulder. He grabs it with his other hand, unthinkingly, which disturbs the burns on his back and now that hurts like a bitch, too.
A pained noise escapes him and he breathes a little heavily.
Ow.]
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I kind of doubt I'd get that far, anyway.
[So he says, even though unbeknownst to him he nearly did already.]
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