Danny blinked awake, grimacing at the awful state of his mouth. Sour and dry, the worst combination. He sluggishly lifted a hand to rub at his crusted eyes, half-heartedly pushing himself upright off the ground.
Ugh, there was something on his face.
He heard someone blubbering to his right, gasping for breath and stammering something he couldn't quite understand. Danny ignored the sound, in favor of grabbing at the plastic cupping his face, fumbling with the straps that secured it to his face, for whatever reason.
A faint ache rattled in his chest, and he finally blinked the grit out of his eyes.
"You're awake, you're alive!"
The person was straight up sobbing now, clinging to him despite being so much larger, and attempting to embrace him in a way that wasn't entirely comfortable.
Danny still couldn't get the mask off, his confusion swirling and rising. Last he remembered, he was fighting with skulker... Some sort of new paralysis dart, and a rather large blade.
Where was he, anyway?
Why couldn't he hear anything except the man's hysterical repetition?
Tiny lights were flashing in the machines beside his bed, familiar in a way that let him finally place his surroundings.
A hospital, with the curtains drawn.
The man was now petting his head, and Danny couldn't help leaning away and frowning. Who was he?
Danny blinked, raising a hand to his throat. He knew he must have said something; he had felt the vibrations, and his lips moving.
The man moved his mouth, expression like he had just made an epiphany and got up from the bed.
As soon as his hand left Danny's wrist, the buzz of sound stopped.
Everything was... silent.
Shouldn't the machines be beeping?
He looked down at his wrist, breath catching as he held them up to the light.
They were... tiny... and brown.
This wasn't his body.