Azwel gives a small, amused huff and a brief grin. "Thank you," he answers a bit loopily. "I try." His forehead is warm, the sweat already dried. He could use a long, hot shower to get all the sweat and grime and lube and cum and whatever else out of his hair and beard and off his skin. He could use an even longer sleep. But mostly, right now, damn does he want a nice, cool glass of water.

A small while passes in this stillness, the gas slowly cycling out of the air. Not a word from their captors. Not a sound. Azwel rests, eyes half-open, gazing at the screens or watching Vash. He ponders the fact that he really should put his clothes back on--he doesn't want to take a chill. But he's too exhausted to move.

A loud beep startles him into wakefulness.

"The facility is now properly vacated," a voice rings out through a speaker. "You may now exit. Please do not damage any of the machinery or standard disciplinary actions will be taken."

With a smaller beep the device on Azwel's head and the collar around Vash's neck unlock. Azwel wearily pushes the thing off himself, watching it clatter to the floor.

"You will need rest and fluids, the voice continues. "Especially you, 02-A."

A small hopper opens, revealing two very familiar looking pills and a clear plastic bottle of water. "Please swallow these. Refusal will result in force-feeding."