Dorian was somewhere between sleeping and waking when a distinctly familiar voice roused him. He took in a slow, deep breath of bleach-clean sheet-smell and smiled. "You won't believe the dream I've had." His voice was lazy as his half-drooped eyes, and he stretched like a cat on his back.

"The Snowfall Nebula was [i]gleaming[/i] like a sea of diamonds -- and there was one little planet, tiny in a field of titan rocks -- and it was [i]singing[/i]. I know what you're going to say, there's no sound in space, but I swear to you this [i]planet[/i] had a [i]voice[/i], and that voice was happy and sad and hopeful and desperate all at once, the most gorgeous thing I've ever heard. I bet you I didn't imagine it, I bet it's a memory from the Peregrine, and I bet you there's a door that'll [i]take[/i] us to --"

When he sat up, his grin faltered. It wasn't Agatha standing there, after all. The day's events seeped back into his consciousness and crowded out the constant murmur of a thousand ancient voices; he leaped out of bed with a fling of blankets, grabbed his stinky crumpled British Air Force shirt and rummaged in its folds until the brass key clattered brightly to the floor.

A breath he'd been holding eased out of his lungs. He bent over and folded the key into his fingers, and he looked up with a warm smile to the nurse. "Arigato," he said smoothly, "[i]we'll be there soon to wish him a happy recovery.[/i]" He watched her until she had gone down the hall, and he leaped to his feet.

"Hear that, pretty girl?" he cooed to Anat, stuffing his boots and uniform into a pillow case. "The sand-prince has awakened, and in recovery no less. Probably waging war on the ghosts in the machines by now." He slung the pillow case over his shoulder and patted her nose with the hand that held the key. "Let's go rescue the nurses from his royal highness, shall we?"

Soon he was padding barefoot and bed-headed down the bright hospital corridor, dressed in baggy gray sweats and a white tee, with a stuffed pillow case in one hand and a key in the other, a regal mare clopping behind him.

It was a little too quiet. But of course, the doctor had worked her magic as she always did, because the prince was calm(ish) and sitting up and trusting that the wires and machines and rough blankets and white walls were all for the best. Dorian peeked in through the doorway and gave him a wide grin.

"Prince Zahi, you look well!" he crowed, and he dawdled into the room, beckoning Anat after him. "You'll make a complete recovery I'm told. Never expected anything less. But hang on, I brought you a present." He produced a small plastic pitcher, and from it poured a cupful of cool clear water. Dorian handed it to Zahi with a wink. "I expect you don't see this much where you're from. There's as much as you could possibly want, here. How do you feel?"