"Dreams aren't supposed to hurt this much," he mutters, frowning down at his legs. That seems weird. At least when Steven frees him, he'll reach over to clumsily try to free his other wrist himself, his brain's jumbled, addled pieces trying to fit together in a way that makes sense.

"What's the ... what's the important thing?" he levers himself awkwardly up to sit on the edge of the metal frame, having to use his hands to heave first one leg than the other to dangle metallic toes over the floor. It seems this dream image of him will hold for a little bit, although he seems more alert-- and where he was totally naked before, a witcher medallion is now looped around his neck, the sharp shape of it nestled between his collarbones. His hand reaches up to grip it almost nervously.