That little movement of their eyes--the clarity in them, however brief--is like a fucking lungful of oxygen for a man who's been waterboarded for the past twenty minutes. There's life in there, still. Thoughts. Language. Good.

That's good.

And yet, at that single word, Dirk is... quiet, just for a moment.

"Yeah," he says softly. He knows.

He doesn't say that part, though. He shakes the thought off internally, throws it out with all the rest of the unproductive debris of his mind, and claps Ranboo on the shoulder--lighter than he usually would, but reassuringly. Or at least it's intended to be reassuring.

"You stay right there. I'm getting you something to drink. You'll drink it, and you'll thank me later. Got it?" He doesn't really wait for an answer.