[ There are few things in this world that Ian likes more than recreational flirting. Even if it's completely platonic, one hundred percent harmless, no intentions to go anywhere, the worst possible timing, any of it. It's that loose, easy rapport that feels incredibly comforting to him. Lighthearted reaffirmations of goodness and good will, a sense of humor. Some people like to give each other shit, they like to tease, casually poke fun or insult, he'll do that from time to time but flirting feels like the polar opposite of it. Typically makes people feel good rather than bad about themselves.

Mace does a good job of it, and it cracks a proper smile onto him for the first time in a little while. Sideways and amused, teeth peeking through.

Glad the sandwich didn't go to waste. It would've if he'd eaten it, probably - right onto the floor, or if they're unlucky, the blankets.

Watching Mace unpack their burn kit twists up his stomach in a way wholly different to the gash. It squeezes everything from his lungs to his bladder, and with that in mind he starts peeling the blankets off of himself. His legs have feeling again, evidently that two hour nap was long enough for the paralytic to wear off.

He prefaces movement with: ]

Don't freak out.

[ Like he's guessing Mace might when he curls his hand around the knob at the headboard and uses it to start peeling himself out of bed to stand. It's hunched forward, palm gently pressed to his stomach like he's holding something in just in case. A little shaky, but it's not his back or his legs they're worried about right now.

He can manage. ]

I need five minutes. I haven't peed the bed since I was five and I wanna keep the streak going. Also, it's less embarrassing to cry in front of the shower curtain.

[ Because he has no illusions that he'll be able to withstand this without losing control of every involuntary process partway through. ]