He's still not really entirely himself, but he's had preliminary tests done by Angie, probing through the implants already in him. She's diagnosed, tentatively, psychological damage. From sensory deprivation of all things. There's nothing in the Bleed but the Bleed.
Jenny's asleep on his lap, having worn herself out. Apollo is just basking in the senses again. Music on, watching the room attentively, fingers brushing through his daughter's hair.