[Tim has had quite a few painkillers. Later, he'll miss having his injuries treated in a cave, where he can't make a stoned fool of himself. He's still in the infirmary, so spam is totally a possibility here.] God, my cheek is killing me. [Probably because you keep touching it, Tim. He's gingerly rubbing that fractured cheekbone.]So those, uh.
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Hi. Everything's back to normal, yeah. You seem like you're feeling better.
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Morphine's great. I think it's morphine.
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Martha won't let me do push ups.
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I think she probably knows best, Tim. Being a doctor and all. And I bet Alfred would agree with her.
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