[It's no surprise that she's suffered this before. She's a grounder. They probably get as many concussions as the football players on the vids they used to play up on the Ark. For a moment he considers telling her knowing that she'll live is bullshit. The danger and unpredictability of head injuries. But the echoes of knowledge stir in his mind again, and he veers away from what could just be unnecessarily scaring her.]

You've got a concussion.

[Do grounders know what concussions are? Probably not, but if she wants more detail, she'll ask. He picks up the omnitool again, heading back over to his pack as he continues talking.]

It'll heal up fast, but you need to rest. That's not doing anything that makes it feel worse, not sleeping.

[He fishes a box out of his pack, flipping it open to count the few pills he'd felt safe swiping from medical on the station. Probably not enough, but he can't keep saving them for the potential of something worse the whole time they're here. He shakes out a dose, then clips the box closed again.]

You can't sleep till some of your symptoms have cleared up.

[Coming back over, holding out his hand, two small yellow tablets in his palm.]

Take these. [A beat, and a dry tug of a smile in the corner of his mouth.] No poison, promise.