Simon should be panicking at the sight of an angel at his hospital bedside, but he feels strangely at peace. Maybe it's the anesthesia wearing off. Either way, he feels calm and kind of floaty as his eyes blink open and focus on you. An angel... wearing scrubs?

"Hey, you waking up?" You ask, putting on a fresh pair of gloves before leaning down towards his face. "Gave your fire station quite the scare, Lieutenant Riley."

Simon tries to sit up, but your hand on his chest feels like lead. He groans and tries to focus on the features of your face. "The apartment fire," he slurs, the medication dripping from his IV making his thoughts hazy and hard to put into words.

"No casualties," you inform him, "Plenty of burns and smoky lungs, but everyone survived."

That makes him feel better, although he can only grunt in response. Then he begins to feel pain ebb in his leg, and he remembers getting pinned under a firey support beam. You're milling about the room now as the second wave of pain management hits his system. He stares at you with a focus that he shouldn't have after surgery before he finally asks, "Are you an angel?" Then, he falls back asleep.