[Johnny is hurt, but he's been hurt for a long time, and he needs to get the hell out of this hospital.

Some might argue that he doesn't need to, that his burning desire to get out is just a want, but the two concepts aren't mutually exclusive, especially to someone whose brain is scrambled enough that the words mutually and exclusive are hard to parse. It's claustrophobic and confusing, and he wastes no time in securing himself a wheelchair and slipping out of his room.

Unfortunately, the building outside of his room is even more overwhelming, and while he's easily able to wave off concerned nurses, getting out provides a bigger challenge than simply wheeling right out the door. It's not especially large, but it's larger than anything he's used to, and the machines...there is nothing that he's able to recognize in this uncomfortably sterile place. Or, rather, he does recognize some, he can name them and know what they are, but the experience is oddly detached. Has he ever seen a computer? Maybe. It's awful to answer an objective question like that with a "maybe", but it's all he has.

He may stop several people, looking to be on the verge of frustrated tears in his hospital gown.]

Hey, have you--have you seen...um, shit. Do you know the way out of this place?

[There's a name in his head, Gyro, but he can't reconcile that memory with this new (is it new?) locale, so he decides to shelve it for the time being.]

[Johnny can be found in the café for hours at a time, oddly unmoving, with the only indication for how long he's been there being how empty his cup of tea is. Chamomile, to be specific--there's an odd, insistent part of him that tells him that chamomile is necessary, for some ungodly reason he only half remembers. Whatever. It tastes fine, anyways, so he's not complaining.

On the table in front of him is a metal sphere, a few inches in diameter, that he gently rolls from hand to hand nearly constantly, only pausing in his odd task to take a sip of tea. There's an odd look of concentration on his face, like he's trying to remember very badly what the hell kind of sport uses a metal ball.]