[color=f26522][h3]Gregory Irving[/h3][hr][hr][/color] Things were rather quiet after that as Gregory brooded in silence and tried to fall asleep. Naturally the former didn’t exactly help with the latter. A flurry of activity caught his attention, and he briefly glanced about as the room was cleared of almost every other patient. Uncertainty cleared aside bitterness for a moment, and he tilted his head to keep the door in sight as he wondered.

At least it didn’t take long for the procession of injured, soldiers, and medical staff to quickly file inside. “Fantastic,” he muttered wheezily as he turned his head to look at the ceiling again. The whole lot of them had been sent out to live combat, and it looked like only a fraction had worse injuries than him. Fan-fucking-tastic indeed. His right hand twitched, too mangled to do much else, and he sighed irritably. The irritation only grew as things continued to happen around him. Doctors and nurses performed their duties, the other students did whatever, and he was unable to even sit up without the pain slamming him back down.

More sounds. Numerous boots against the floor. More soldiers then, but why? He didn’t need to turn his head before the answer was handed to him in the form of a light show above him, and the disappearance of his injuries. He blinked a few times, overwhelmed by just how… healthy he felt, before he turned just in time to catch a glimpse of the Precursor as the doors slid shut with a hiss.

The realization that he didn’t have to just lay around uselessly prompted Gregory to sit up quickly, and climb out of bed. Still… between the cast around his upper arm, the wrappings around his other hand making it hard to move, and those around his waist… he needed to find someone to get all this stuff off of him. Luckily, the doctor that arrived moments later and cleared them to get on with their lives also pointed him in the direction of some staff that could do just that, so that’s exactly where he headed off for the moment.