H. Caine, bullet wounds, Plane

[Horatio Caine]

Horatio lay there determined to count all of the ceiling tiles. 1,2,3,4......... he started but gave up. He'd do that later. Once again he was in the hospital, his almost home away from home these days. He hated being tied up like a dog in a hospital. Like a dog he needed to be free, to roam the streets of Miami searching for criminals. Wait why am I thinking like I'm a dog? Stupid antibiotics. he thought. He sighed and tried to think back to the day before but came up with nothing.

The nurse came in with his breakfast. "Nice to see your awake from the coma you were in," she said setting down the tray and patting Horatio's head. Coma? he didn't know. He quickly gobbled up his food and shoved the tray way. He looked up at the ceiling thinking that this would be a good time to count the tiles.

[RYAN WOLFE!™]

Ryan; being one of those people who 'got around' and was eventually known throughout the hospital for his impatience, had just heard of Horatio's consciousness. Supposing that he could leave Aiden for a few minutes to speak to him, he had politely (and uncharacteristically) excused himself and had headed over to where his boss currently lay. Blinking at the sight of him staring upwards at the ceiling, he wondered if he seemed as downcasted as he looked through the stained glass windows. He knocked twice and opened the door a crack, poking his head in and looking towards the lieutenant, a slightly shy smile on that handsome face of his.

"Um, hey, H. How're you doing?"

So much for seeming 'cool and casual'. Ryan sounded much like a nervous child visiting a principal for a good scolding. But, oh well; he couldn't quite turn back time.

He walked in and silently shifted to sit on the chair, tilting his head to the side slightly and watching Horatio's cobalt blue hues; wondering what was running through that head of his.

[Horatio Caine]

58, 59, 60, 61............. Horatio stopped counting when he heard someone enter his room. He lowered his head and his eyes slowly followed the mans swift movements to the chair next to his bed. He stared at him trying to figure out who he was, but after 3 minutes of trying he gave up and gave a half sigh half groan. "Who.... who" he mumbled squinting at the vaguely familliar face.

[RYAN WOLFE!™]

Ryan could only smile at his attempts to make out who he was, finding it actually rather adorable on a man of his status--one of those guys who had a kind of seriousness and 'I know what it means' kind of thing. Seeing him all confused made him seem more human.

"It's Ryan," he replied, beaming at him for some reason; sort of wanting to make him feel a little happier. Having bullet wounds were never enjoyable; and what with a bullet lodged into his arm not too long ago, he could feel his pain.

"You okay?"