Dei opened his eyes with a lazy grin, recognizing the drowsy, happy feeling associated with morphine. Ah, morphine. Sweet, sweet painkillers. Going in to work with a morphine drip would piss Tyler off even more than the cigarettes would. The thought made him giggle slightly, which made the room wobble a bit. Probably shouldn't be awake yet. They hate it when you wake up early.

He'd done that in surgery, after the car accident. Just opened his eyes and blinked over the oxygen mask while they were trying to reconstruct his ribcage. He stopped his heart then, too, just to see what would happen. It was like shouting "fire" in a crowded theatre- the surgeons practically raised a stampede. It was amusing, yes, but also noisy, so he went back to sleep.

You'd think I'd be a little less accident prone by now, really. He tilted his head slightly to the left. There was his arm, swathed in white from shoulder to wrist and immobilized in a sling. The tail ends of the pins they'd used to reattach his shoulder jutted out of the plaster.

Dei closed his eyes then, and swallowed heavily past a lump in his throat. He couldn't feel his fingers. Perhaps waking up early hadn't been the best idea; he let the morphine pull him back into unconsciousness with cold fingers.

---------------------

Whee, switching view points. I'd wanted to do the scene where he actually meets Tristan from his pov, but he's still kind of panicky over the thought of not getting full use of his arm back. Also, morphine makes him uncoperative, the little junkie.

*pets characters* I swear, the abuse he takes...