"Hi. Tell me where it doesn't hurt at least to a sufficient degree that I can kiss you?"

"My face is mostly fine," he says encouragingly.

So he gets a proper kiss, then, with her leaning carefully to avoid jostling his arms at all. "I was hoping Quinn had exaggerated."

"Well, what'd she say?"

"She told me that you fired an antique pistol complete with recoil when you already had a broken shoulder and were then even further bounced around. She told me this complete with gory details. Which I have barely just enough medical education to find specifically alarming rather than reducible to 'there ensued injurious action'."

"That's... just about accurate, yeah. Although she seems to have omitted the part where I was bounced around beforehand too."

"No, that was included, it just graduated from expected 'my husband is a mercenary admiral' levels of appalling into a new tier at the point where your shoulder was already broken and you had to shoot a slug-thrower with that arm." She kisses his forehead and smooths his hair.

"Aha. Well, now you know to adjust your expectations of appallingness upward," he jokes. "Anyway, I was hardly going to shoot with the other arm, then I wouldn't have had any totally functional arms left. That's generally considered a major drawback in combat."

"One which you soon suffered, to hear Quinn tell it, or is that solely for symmetry?" she asks, gesturing at his bandaged left arm.

"Ah. No, my left arm was doing pretty well when I got here, the surgeons just suggested that while they had to replace most of the bones in the other they might as well do both, and I agreed."

"Quinn said you had two fractures in your forearm and a broken finger. Apparently I'm meant to categorize that as 'pretty well' - I decline to call it 'totally functional'."

"All right," he concedes, "that's fair."

More forehead-kiss. "Hopefully soon you can come home and we can figure out some combination of hand-feeding and liquid-nutrition-plus-straws that works for you while not being hospital food."

"I admit the hand-feeding doesn't sound so bad."

Kiss. "All right. And I suppose I'll shut up the fur somewhere in case it snuggles too energetically for comfort."

He snorts. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's been very nice to have in your absence, though."

"I'm glad."

Kiss! "Simon apologized to me," she mentions. "After formally clearing me to know the things I know. It would have been rather awkward if I had remained barred from knowing them, I suppose."

"Yes. But apologized? That's - interesting. When?"

"Shortly after you landed. Cordelia thinks it was because he was reminded of the concept of apologies existing when he had to give you one."

"Yes, that's... more or less what I was just thinking."

Pet pet pet. "Do you want to see the notes?"

"Sure."

She defines her pen's display area where it will be easy for him to see and calls them up. As an afterthought, she collects a new medical scan, compares it with the baseline in the old rib fractures, and pockets the scanner again with the new image saved as baseline complete with synthetic arm bones.