It doesn't take much to rouse him- he'd always been easy to wake on the MOI but the strung tight coil of his shoulders snaps into place in a microsecond, head snapping up, hand falling to a holster at his hip (even in medical, it's stun, they let him keep it), the set of his jaw and quick flick of his eyes to every line of attack speaks less of the usual soldierly wariness and a more bone deep paranoia.

Something he'd picked up along with the lean angle to his jaw (a few months here isn't enough to fill in the padding he'd lost on the MOI just yet), the crinkles by his eyes, the spattering of grey here and there in the blonde. Time for York has passed. Now awake and settling back into his usual amiable chill dudebro persona he's better able to blink at North and,

Uh.

"Damn, you haven't aged a day, huh?"