"I wouldn't sign up for a marathon tomorrow." Maybe not the worst person to call. At least she'll deign to touch him, under these circumstances. If only to check his pulse. As angry as she is at him-- angry as she's ever been-- she doesn't hate him (which, really, is the better part of her problem.) Instinct lends her to mending wounds. Even if she didn't care at all, even if she never wanted to see him again, it's not like she would have left him there.

And here she's been, waiting by his door or at his bedside. Professionally, of course. Eye on his vitals, on the sheet, the clean new bandage with no trace of blood. She's glad he doesn't try to meet her eyes, though her concern is easy enough to write off. Cameron loves broken things, after all; bones and spirits alike, damaged people who need her as much as she needs them to.

"It was close, but you should make a full recovery." Softer now, easier; the worst is over for both of them. She's still leaning lightly on the bedframe, watching him shift, approving of the color that's returned to his complexion. The worst is over. As sanguine as she's been when she's paused to check the Network, allaying everyone's fears, seeing him awake is a weight off her shoulders.