“For … that long?”

 Hanzo has to voice it out loud. Though it’s not so much the length of how long he had been asleep as it is the fact that the first thing he noticed upon waking up had been the sharpshooter, sitting next to the bed, with expression he could only describe as worry.

        Hah.

 Worry over him? Hardly. And yet as McCree speaks, it dawns on him. He sits himself up a bit straighter, wincing while he does so—right, bandages, before he gives up for now, exhaling a sigh. Could have always been worse, though, right?

        “I … ah … McCree, you need not worry, I will be alright.”.

⌠♞⌡ ;;  “Shouldn’t be so surprised, darlin’. Bullet to the side’ll do that to you.” Despite the light, amused tone, his eyes are soft with concern, and Jesse has to remind himself that Hanzo probably doesn’t wanna be touched -- so he stops himself from reaching out to do so. God, but he feels pathetic like this. Hanzo’s in the clear, sure, but it’s hard not to fret.

“Easy, easy.” And this time, he does reach out, hand on Hanzo’s shoulder to keep him from moving too quick. “Doc said you’re gonna be on bedrest for a week at least, try not t’ move too fast.”

Jesse let out a small, nervous laugh, removing his hand as Hanzo spoke to run his fingers through his own messy hair. Brown eyes averted themselves, fixing instead on the hat in Mccree’s lap.