The smell of your own burning flesh, blood and chemicals disintegrating your eyes still wafted into your nose with every inhale as if the injury had happened mere moments before. The hospital sheets felt scratchy, you'd never noticed that before. Then again you'd never had to rely completely on your other senses in order to know what your environment looked like at the moment seeing as bandages still hugged your head tightly, what you could feel of your hands was rough, ragged with bruises and cuts that the doctors still actively applied gaze and bandages to if you agitated the wounds. You could only assume when they unwrapped them, you'd see a patchwork of skin grafts and ugly scars all too fresh in your mind. If you saw anything at all. Enemy soldiers had nabbed your unconscious body off the battlefield and spent upwards of four months trying to get information out of you. Poking, prodding, tearing, scratching, lashing, any number of other torture methods now seemed all too familiar after everything was said and done, but their last move had been out of sheer cruelty, a hail Mary that they hoped would've made you talk but had held no new results. Strapping you to the floor and using chemicals to sear the flesh on your face before eventually pouring directly onto your eyes that sat overflowing with tears. You'd passed out and had awoken in the hospital. What brought you out of memory lane was the sound of the door to your room opening. You heard the sound of footsteps and recognized your visitor when you heard the thrumming trill of his voice. "Feeling any better? Doc said they can take the bandages off in a couple days." Hal had begun working on cutting up something for you, the sounds of crisp slices and the smell made you try to deduce what he'd brought in. Though your answer was found when Hal pressed a few apple slices into your hand as he spoke, he knew it wasn't a particularly large comfort but he still wanted you to know that he was trying to comfort of help you "Anything you want to talk about?"