The two hours I was inside the hospital ward, I trained. And damn, I finally got myself a cigarette. Only two minutes, but hey, I could get it back anytime. Then I got myself something sweet, eating it.
I figured two minutes weren't enough for my body to digest any food and give myself sufficient nutrients, but it was nice enough.
I got myself chewing gum as well, feeling it disappear after two minutes.
Let's see about weapons. Sadly, I had never held a real gun in my life, so I couldn't conjure it up. It only worked with something I, personally, held in my hands because the memory was the most vivid. I had to remember how it felt and how it was shaped. Among the things I held in my own hands and of what I could think of using for fighting was, for example, a baton. It wasn't because I had owned one, but some creep brought it to a fight, where I had gone out as the winner nonetheless. I had picked it up to make a few moves with it before I threw it in the trash.
