They had to be careful with Tony's, he'd already reacted badly to too much morphine, so his world was more a haze of fog and pain than being intentionally kept under. He'd been in and out of consciousness a few times, each time he croaked the same questions, received the same patient answers from the nurses, then fell under to forget all about it all over again.

Though he may not have been dead, he certainly didn't look very alive, either. Slow, labored breathing, skin more purple and blue than ashen grey, and laying far too still for natural sleep. He was aware, dimly, that a presence had joined him, as he'd just been awake a little bit ago bothering a nurse for the nth time with where he was and how. After a little while of expecting the person to just finish with whatever business they had and leave him, he finally cracked open the one functioning eye to squint irritably at whoever it was sitting next to his bed.

Who are you and what do you want strange nurse? He just kind of grunted, as if inviting L to speak, because he sure didn't feel like doing it himself.