Narrator: The patient awakens.
Voyt: Welcome back to the land of the living, young lady.
Elf: I'm a Lieutenant. If you 'young lady' me again, you'll be learning to talk through a hole in your chest.
Voyt (thinking): Memo to self. . . Talk to triage team about the importance of disarming patients.
Voyt: I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Lieutenant, your stim overdose was a false alarm. Apparently no ill effects there.

Your legs pose a problem, though. The hand-me-down was lost along with our armor platoon when Athens was attacked.
Voyt: I've notified your Captain of your condition. Doctor Bunnigus will be shuttling in.

She said your Munitions Commander could help her outfit you with some prosthetics.
Elf: Ugh. Commander Andreyasn never does anything small.
Elf: I'll pro'lly end up permanently mounted inside a giant robot, or maybe have a big ol' annie plant 'planted where my pelvis oughta be.
Voyt: Count your blessings, young la. . . uh, Lieutenant. The rest of the wounded have arrived, and there are some much worse off than you.
TRBoE:
Sign: Der Trihs
Pongoryobi
Der Trihs: Stop shaking my jar!