[Johnny absolutely, non-negotiably needs to leave, and someone trying to make small talk isn't really appreciated. He's fumbling with his IV (why does he have an IV? what the hell happened to him?), valiantly trying to detach himself from the various bits and bobs connecting him to unfamiliar computers and devices.

Whatever. He can at least attempt conversation, with an emphasis on attempt.]

I'm gonna be fine. Consider yourself lucky you've never had to be in one of these hellholes, too.

[Not like he's sure if or when he's ever had to stay in a hospital--he vaguely recalls an injury, a fall, maybe, and weeks of stay in perhaps this very place, but it doesn't track with anything else he knows, so he pushes it out of his mind for the time being.]

Are you gonna be alright?