Bass stirred some when she was washing him, responsive to her touch and that of the rag. He arched a little into her hand when she was washing his hair, though flinched away with the softest sound of distress when she got too close to the contusion on the side of his head. The surgeon would have said those were all good signs. His brain was there, interpreting signals of pleasure and pain correctly.
The food was a little less successful--despite their best efforts he'd gotten dehydrated enough that his mouth and throat were dry and swallowing food was difficult. But he swallowed the water more readily, and when he got restless, her touches and words soothed him.
When she stood, his hand moved, not quite purposefully reaching like he was aware where she and her hand were, but searching for the lost contact. The surgeon came in at the right moment to catch the gesture, and smiled, genuine relief flickering across his face.
"That's more than I've seen him move since it happened; he knows you're here, Miss...Matheson, isn't it? General Matheson's niece?"
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The food was a little less successful--despite their best efforts he'd gotten dehydrated enough that his mouth and throat were dry and swallowing food was difficult. But he swallowed the water more readily, and when he got restless, her touches and words soothed him.
When she stood, his hand moved, not quite purposefully reaching like he was aware where she and her hand were, but searching for the lost contact. The surgeon came in at the right moment to catch the gesture, and smiled, genuine relief flickering across his face.
"That's more than I've seen him move since it happened; he knows you're here, Miss...Matheson, isn't it? General Matheson's niece?"