[Tony himself is just... lying in bed, looking tired and miserable and glaring at the ceiling, his communicator lying in his lap, hands idle around it.
Until, of course, the helmet is offered. Almost instantly he's forcing himself up, refusing to wince or sway or anything, just grabbing the thing and grabbing one of the wires coiled up inside of it, running it up and under his shirt and letting out a breath as the eyes of it lit up, power flowing through it.
At least now he'll have something to do while stuck down here.]
Talk. [His voice is a little hoarse, a little shaky, and he just gestures vaguely at Charles and the air between them.] Just- gimme a bit with the psychic stuff.
[He pauses for a second, settling back in the mess of pillows propping him up right now]
I shot myself in the head. [Because that's totally a good place to start.]
[Spam]
Until, of course, the helmet is offered. Almost instantly he's forcing himself up, refusing to wince or sway or anything, just grabbing the thing and grabbing one of the wires coiled up inside of it, running it up and under his shirt and letting out a breath as the eyes of it lit up, power flowing through it.
At least now he'll have something to do while stuck down here.]
Talk. [His voice is a little hoarse, a little shaky, and he just gestures vaguely at Charles and the air between them.] Just- gimme a bit with the psychic stuff.
[He pauses for a second, settling back in the mess of pillows propping him up right now]
I shot myself in the head. [Because that's totally a good place to start.]