Chase is settled in the armchair across the way, looking a lot more comfortable than she does, despite the second hypodermic he's expertly flipping between the fingers of one hand. There's always a chance a curse won't settle for a 24 hour stint. He watches her as she adjusts to the waking world, because he did essentially just roofie her, and there's no guarantee she won't be mad about it, even if he's the one bearing the worst of the injury under his now safely buttoned shirt.

Two wine glasses and a glass of water sit on the table between them. Chase leans forward to nudge the water closer her way, asking the obvious question, "How are you feeling?"