"Alright." Phil could tell how much was in the air. He couldn't tell what it was, but it was something. He would push it later when moving around wasn't quite as much of a struggle. He loosened his hold on Clint, but still kept some of his weight pressed against him. He hoped it was more the drugs than the injury that he felt this wobbly.

"I'll lie down, but if either of you try to strap me to the bed, I will shoot you both." Probably just in the foot or something, though. No big deal. He was just a little sick of feeling trapped.

Finally, he pushed away so that he could wobble his way back to his cot carefully. "I guess I should probably eat, huh? Anything sounds better than remote bullshit hospital food, to be honest."

He sat heavily on the cot and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just lucky that one of my kidnappers is a doctor, huh?" He sounded fond, more than he would have expected, actually. He gave Bruce a smile. "Whatever they had me on is really... My head's swimming a little." He scrubbed at his face.