Sulu was surprisingly okay with this whole situation. Sure, he was almost naked, bleeding from the head, concussed and very likely on the verge of blacking out again, but. Well, he couldn't think what was good about this whole thing, but he knew there was some upside that he was missing at the moment. He'd get there.

He closed his eyes, because the light in the bathroom stung, he didn't want to get blood in them, and he felt too loopy and nauseated to keep trying to focus them. "I couldn't pronounce it," he slurred, referring to dinner, "Remember?" It had been in French, or some other language that Sulu had never bothered to study. He knew he was answering the questions Ianto didn't care about, so he groaned and reached up, putting his hand over Ianto's and pressing down against the wound because man, his head was killing him. And then the stinging from his arm registered, and he hissed and dropped it back into his lap.

"Look. Look, it's. It's okay. I'm Hikaru Sulu, you're Ianto Jones, and it's. It's." Ugh, he was really going to throw up. No, no, he was better than that. "It's all right. You couldn't have guessed. And 'm not good with... paranormal. Things. Ugh." Clearly, Sulu didn't get concussions often enough to be ready for any of this. "...Ghost. Right. Where'd it go?"