[Look, you spend three straight days fighting for your life until you collapse and then over two days sleeping it off, and you're gonna be tossing death orbs around at loud noises. Bolin's voice registers a bit more clearly, but he's not replying right away as his brain processes. His hands come up to scrub at his face and one fist rubs at his eye as he squints, trying to see.]
no subject
… Wassat 'bout… crackers? …………Where'm'I?