[The young Gilgamesh lay tired and weak. Vision blurry of the darkened ceiling. His limbs barely twitched as his eyes moved the most. There was that temptation to get to his feet and try to get out, but there was that cold thought of what would happen if he were to. What did they do to him? It was a fuzzy memory, but he recalled doctors... and pain.

Grunting out a cough, throat sore for some odd reason, Gil breathed a loud huff of confusion and rage.]

Who dare-?! Ghk!

[That desire to call out to those who were near was cut short by a shock of physical weakness.] Dammit! [He cursed. Breathing in once more, this time pacing his breaths and his voice, Gil spoke once more.]

Who's there?