The words take too long to creep into understanding. Before Daniel can fully process them or anything else, a shrieking, piercing pitch cracks into the sluggishness of thought, drills into Daniel's awareness in supraorbital, visceral, unbearable effect.

There is the brush of fingers and the sear of light, and the displaced nerves and fractures in jaw and bone knit themselves together in a crack of internal architecture realigning.

The shock of once again having a working, pain-free body reduces Daniel to blinking, breathless disbelief - before he turns to his passenger who is, apparently, only superficially damaged and, equally apparently, has just stitched his body back together in the span of a few seconds.

"What did - how did you -" he manages, and that's about it.