To say Ivan was out of it was a bit of an understatement. He'd been admirably stitched up, yes, but between his injuries, how long the day had been on the whole, and (most importantly) whatever that needle had been that they'd jabbed him with... he was awake, but struggling to maintain a decent level of coherence. There was still that he had to help Laharl, and to warn the others... but the times he tried to get up, the freshly-mended wounds felt like new and forced him back down.

The pain had given him enough clarity to be getting frustrated. There were people in trouble, real, life-threatening danger, and here he was, out of commission. He eventually realized he didn't know if anyone had gotten his message... but he didn't even know where his journal was to check.

He jerked in surprise when the door opened, but he recognized who it was. And at least it was someone. Etna, who they'd been going to meet, and Timon... and a talking boar. Although that last one completely failed to shock him. Talking animals were about the most normal thing he'd run into over the last two days.

"... y'get my message?" he asked generally. Well, they must have, right?