He hadn't perceived anyone else being nearby. He's in far too much discomfort to care otherwise. Leonard has to turn to see who's addressing him, and the sight of the gray and yellow armor seems to jar something in his mind. He's holding one side of his head, but he shakes it to see if he can concentrate on communicating.

"Washington," he says. "I am sorry, this is—"

He tries to shake it off, behave normally, stand at a normal, unhunched posture. It's hard to do. He sort of jerks, trying to avoid rubbing his own arms to alleviate the pain.

"Something's happening," he adds, as though that's some kind of explanation. "It's a bit distracting."