He responds tersely, painfully, "I woke up." That's about all that he's going to let her know.

He barely even remembers who she is, but he does know that she doesn't have the tools to help him here. All that he can do is make sure that she is safe if things go wrong with him. He hunches his shoulders forward and several large pinion feathers fall from his wings, their ends tipped in blood. The hallway, once cluttered with all manner of detail - trash, dust, little cracks in the concrete, now seems less defined. Except for the occasional door, there doesn't seem to be any detail at all.

He takes a few deep breaths before he speaks again. "Leave them," he says, meaning the feathers. "You should go."