There's nothing dramatic about Poe's return to consciousness, at least not from his perspective. He doesn't remember going down to begin with, but then again he doesn't really remember much from the last several days -- not since Ren got his hands on him. Pain, yes. Faces, here and there, friends and worriers and snatches of conversation. The medical ward ... the barge. He was definitely in medical.
This? This is very much not, and Poe struggles upright abruptly the moment his eyes focus and he recognizes (or to be more accurate, fails to recognize) his surroundings. A ship, yes. An older model. Judging by the state of an overhead bulkhead, it's not a military vessel. There's a stack of medical supplies nearby. His shoulder aches a little, and maybe his whole body feels oddly stiff, but he's pretty sure it's a vast improvement from before.
Well. He's in one piece, and that's a pretty good start. For a moment, Poe considers the merits of wandering out to get his bearings. Ultimately, he decides to stay put, at least for the moment. It seems pretty obvious that he's been cared for during his sleep, so he's fairly certain there's nothing to be nervous about -- still, he's already curious enough to feel a tug of impatience, and so he resolves to give himself no more than an hour to gather his bearings before venturing out into the rest of the ship. With some semblance of a plan, Poe turns to checking himself over for further damage, then gently turns to ease his legs over the edge of the bunk.
Half an hour, he amends. In the moment, it feels like waiting any longer might be the death of him.
It's thanks to the beeping from BB-8 on Poe's arrival that Rey comes to see what's happening in the room she left them both in, and when she comes through the door and sees Poe sitting up instead of prone there with his eyes closed, still as death, she's swamped with an overwhelming sense of relief.
She knows these comas don't last forever but his had gone on so long, she had missed him so much and now there he is, just sitting there like nothing at all was ever wrong.
"That took you long enough," she says, not unkindly, and her eyes are bright with affection and she's even smiling a little to see him like this. "I was starting to consider going with BB-8's plan to plug into your head and see about restarting you even though we all know it doesn't work like that."
Parts of Poe's brain might still be a little vaporlocked, judging by the way he's staring in silence -- first at BB-8 and his near-constant stream of excited chatter, then at Rey and the relief and fondness in the look he's directing his way. She's smiling, even, and Poe didn't even have to do anything stupid to get them there.
Doesn't mean he's barred from it, though. Poe wriggles his toes to work proper feeling back into them, as his gaze slides back to BB-8. "You open up a window somewhere, little buddy?"
He grins pointedly, then works himself into a deeply-satisfying, vertebrae-cracking stretch, the kind that leaves him shivering afterwards. Poe reaches for the blanket, draws it around his bare shoulders, and settles in to figure out where his time's gotten off to. "Glad you didn't," he says cheerfully. "You two do something like that, I'm liable to loose what brains haven't been rattled loose already. Been keeping an eye on me, huh?"
"Someone had to," she says lightly, like it's not at all a big deal, but she suspects they both know that she's the only one she trusts to do this right. To keep him safe after everything he'd been through, to be positive he'd never wake up in pain and terror ever again.
She comes over to sit beside him, hands over the canteen of water she keeps in her satchel at all times because she's sure he's got to be thirsty after sleeping so long.
Considering the last few days that he can remember? No, Poe's only a little surprised to find that she's spirited him away somewhere outside of the usual, rather than the more convenient route: leaving him in the infirmary like ... well, most might.
Generous is a bit of an understatement. Poe smiles at her, a little more subdued now that he's had a moment to process the situation, brightening when she hands him the canteen. "Thanks, sunshine," he murmurs, turning his attention to loosening the lid. "For everything -- I owe you pretty big."
As far as the question goes, Poe shrugs with relative ease; there's a twinge deep in the muscle, a pull on tender-feeling skin that says the wound hasn't entirely healed, but that it's mostly on its way to being so. "A little fuzzy," he admits, and reaches up to scratch his chin. He hesitates, startled, feeling more than just a few days' worth of whiskers beneath his fingers -- frankly, it feels like a whole damn forest took root on his face while he wasn't paying attention. "Uh. Literally, I suppose." BB-8 bleats an unimpressed sound in response, and Poe laughs quietly. "How long was I out?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wakey wakey
This? This is very much not, and Poe struggles upright abruptly the moment his eyes focus and he recognizes (or to be more accurate, fails to recognize) his surroundings. A ship, yes. An older model. Judging by the state of an overhead bulkhead, it's not a military vessel. There's a stack of medical supplies nearby. His shoulder aches a little, and maybe his whole body feels oddly stiff, but he's pretty sure it's a vast improvement from before.
Well. He's in one piece, and that's a pretty good start. For a moment, Poe considers the merits of wandering out to get his bearings. Ultimately, he decides to stay put, at least for the moment. It seems pretty obvious that he's been cared for during his sleep, so he's fairly certain there's nothing to be nervous about -- still, he's already curious enough to feel a tug of impatience, and so he resolves to give himself no more than an hour to gather his bearings before venturing out into the rest of the ship. With some semblance of a plan, Poe turns to checking himself over for further damage, then gently turns to ease his legs over the edge of the bunk.
Half an hour, he amends. In the moment, it feels like waiting any longer might be the death of him.
eggs and space bac-y
She knows these comas don't last forever but his had gone on so long, she had missed him so much and now there he is, just sitting there like nothing at all was ever wrong.
"That took you long enough," she says, not unkindly, and her eyes are bright with affection and she's even smiling a little to see him like this. "I was starting to consider going with BB-8's plan to plug into your head and see about restarting you even though we all know it doesn't work like that."
no subject
Doesn't mean he's barred from it, though. Poe wriggles his toes to work proper feeling back into them, as his gaze slides back to BB-8. "You open up a window somewhere, little buddy?"
He grins pointedly, then works himself into a deeply-satisfying, vertebrae-cracking stretch, the kind that leaves him shivering afterwards. Poe reaches for the blanket, draws it around his bare shoulders, and settles in to figure out where his time's gotten off to. "Glad you didn't," he says cheerfully. "You two do something like that, I'm liable to loose what brains haven't been rattled loose already. Been keeping an eye on me, huh?"
no subject
She comes over to sit beside him, hands over the canteen of water she keeps in her satchel at all times because she's sure he's got to be thirsty after sleeping so long.
"How are you feeling?"
oh my god that last tag was so full of typos wtf
Generous is a bit of an understatement. Poe smiles at her, a little more subdued now that he's had a moment to process the situation, brightening when she hands him the canteen. "Thanks, sunshine," he murmurs, turning his attention to loosening the lid. "For everything -- I owe you pretty big."
As far as the question goes, Poe shrugs with relative ease; there's a twinge deep in the muscle, a pull on tender-feeling skin that says the wound hasn't entirely healed, but that it's mostly on its way to being so. "A little fuzzy," he admits, and reaches up to scratch his chin. He hesitates, startled, feeling more than just a few days' worth of whiskers beneath his fingers -- frankly, it feels like a whole damn forest took root on his face while he wasn't paying attention. "Uh. Literally, I suppose." BB-8 bleats an unimpressed sound in response, and Poe laughs quietly. "How long was I out?"
shh it's fine shh
And they both know that's true, so she's really just hoping he'll let it go now, not bring up anyone owing anyone anything.
"And I lost count, but I probably should have asked the Admiral for a shaving kit for you."