I am half-dead Vegas thought. At least, that's how he felt with limited mobility and no weapon. He quite literally couldn't fight to save his life. It was a harrowing feeling. He wondered if this was how Pete felt in the safehouse. Helpless. Useless. No wonder he ran away. Vegas would have run, too.

Feelings are so gross.

Vegas was a little distracted by getting settled in the wheelchair when Jiang Cheng pulled the clothes out of his pouch, though, even after the fact, Vegas wondered how such a garment fit in such a small bag. More magic, he supposed. Too bad they couldn't just magic him out of this hellhole of a hospital back to his own comfortable bed.

"I'll do my best," he replied dryly.