L was dimly aware at first of the fact that he was being propped up, melting limply out of the stiff hypotension-caused seizure as Bakura wrapped him in towels. The ringing in his ears returned, only to fade back so he could hear his friend's ragged breathing in painfully sharp focus.

So much for discretion... Too late to hide my injuries. Next, he'll think he has to call an ambulance, and that can't happen.

He seized Bakura's wrist; his own grip wasn't particularly firm, it couldn't be, with the mess things were under those stitches, but the message had to be clear.