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Fléin staggered out of the operating theatre a few minutes after Sai had left, though he didn't know it. His head screamed in pain. His Talking Brain Syndrome had been relieved, but this was little comfort, as he hadn't had it before.
The surgery had not been without its consequences. He had been shown his image in a mirror before he had left. Not only was his face covered in tender bruises of the purple variety, there was a bloody slash across his forehead where he had been sliced open. He had heard the orcs murmuring before he had been allowed to leave.
"Ith that where-?" whispered one orc in Tartan with square glasses.
"Yeth," replied another with half-moon glasses and a long silver beard. "He'll have that thcar forevew."
This had made him feel little better, though he had to admit, the lightning scar shape was quite trendy looking.
He had left the surgery feeling odd, as well as tender. He presumed he had bled, for he felt light and giddy. His fingers tingled. He had a curious desire to find a broomstick.
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Fléin finally managed to get to Mr Freud's office, though Sai was within at the moment. He loitered around outside, reaffirming his grip on himself. He felt slightly more secure now.
The corridor was lit with fluorescent lights. One was flickering, in the manner typical of hospitals. The whitewashed walls offered little relief from boredom, and soon Fléin's mind was wondering to A Slan.
Suddenly, he felt that he was being watched, and glanced at the window at the end of the corridor. As if in response to his thought, a sparrow was perched there. He walked over and knew, before it opened it's beak, what it would say.
He opened the window, grabbed the bird in a fist before it could say anything, and glared at it.
"I am not in the best of moods. A Slan is on the move, I know. Now tell me what A Slan is. Oh, bugger."
He realised that he was probably still not fully under his own control. The anaesthetic drugs must have still been affecting his mind. That would explain why he had misjudged his force and now had sparrow puree in his hand.
He sighed, opened the window, and dropped the sparrow carcass out of the window, no more enlightened than before.
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