"Oh, uh, I sprained an ankle." He pauses. "I'd kind of rather not get into how it happened." Especially not to someone with a bullet wound and a broken rib.

He sits down next to her bed. "I'm glad you're okay, though. I'd hate to think anything worse could've happened, especially considering the state of some folks here." He shakes his head. "Or the state of those who couldn't come here at all."

The mental image of the deaths in the hallway flits through his mind hauntingly, but he shakes it out. "I kind of missed the main event, though. I got pulled away for something when things went down. I still need to go back for that, actually." Poor Fumie.