Eleven goes easily, eyes closing and awareness fading with the soft promise of linens. He's brought back to by the sting of liquid until finally, he drifts into unconsciousness. He sleeps for some time until discomfort reigns through his slumber and pulls him awake.

"Hendrik..?" he tries blearily, levering himself up with a frown, searching for his protector. He finds a less familiar face, but one he still recognizes. The new reality reasserts itself with crushing clarity.

"..Too much that it wasn't real," he hazards on a breath, moving to sit up properly. He could do with more rest, but he's in less pain for sleeping and his visual search for water is more pressing than even the flurry of activity going on. "Where are we?"