Breathing. In and out, slow and steady while his hands shake and his back locks up and his fucking eye hurts like it had before the surgery. He's fine. He's whole. There's no blood, there's nothing wrong, no one's hurt. Convincing his brain of that is a pain in the ass- it's not listening.

But his pulse does drop down to something more reasonable. Inch by inch he can relax. Reach out with an unsteady hand to grab the water and down it like he'd been in a desert for the last half hour, not a press conference in the states. "Thanks."