Tommy plants his hand flat on the ground and tries to push himself to standing. It's awkward, first because he's still disoriented and feels a little like throwing up and then because his arm is hanging like a dead weight on his left side, shifting his whole centre of gravtiy from what he's used to. He stumbles back against the pod that just spat him out and uses it to leverage himself the rest of the way out to standing.

"Yeah, sure," he agrees and holds out his hand so that Mouse can drop the package into it, then he tucks it away in one of the pockets of his boxers. He could probably do them dry -- file that under skills he's picked up in the last year -- but Mouse has already run off to find water, so Tommy figures that works too.

It gives him a chance anyway to find a stretch of wall not cluttered with weird machinery and line himself up. He grits his teeth and lifts his bad arm up with his good hand, ignoring the fact that the pain makes his eyes start to water all over again. He props his elbow on the wall and pushes against into the resistance with his weight. For a moment, it seems like nothing's going to happen, like something's blocking the way, but then, just as suddenly as it popped out, he can feel things pop back together, and it doesn't hurt any less, but it doesn't feel so strange anymore either. Involuntarily, Tommy lets out a little grunt and then shuts his eyes and leans heavily into the wall while he gets used to the feeling of having a working shoulder again.