They incline their head very, very slightly by way of recognition, let their eyes fall closed as they sag, exhausted, into the filthy bed. Even if he was aware of the state of the bed, he would be far too wrung out to really do anything about it or care.

At least their mind is now blissfully silent, numbed beyond conscious thought. There's still pain, of course, that isn't going away, but the inability to think in proper words or images is a temporary blessing, despite the constant, low hum of agony just beneath that numbing blanket.

At least they aren't actively having a meltdown anymore.