[ The rescue op goes quickly enough—they can't afford any less—but the fallout unfolds with agonizing slowness. He helps Clair to safety and goes on auto-pilot after Richie, folding the issue up and carefully pocketing it for later (callous, maybe, but one deals as they must, when they must, and now is neither the time nor place). He fires off some texts because he knows better these days, he doesn't have to deal with this alone. Or maybe it's that he can't—it's hard to keep his eyes open (very literally speaking; even blinking hurts, though at least the thin skin around his eyes is just raw where the neighboring patches on his cheeks crack and peel and blister) and eventually he has to find an empty stretch of Institute hallway to prop himself against the wall.
His mask finally fizzles away as he touches his own cheek gingerly—and the regret is immediate. He withdraws, pressing a knuckle to his teeth to hiss sharply around it. The sting is dizzying now that he gives it a chance to sink in, though maybe it's just the residual fog in his lungs venting into his skull.
And still, he should count himself lucky.
—What a disaster. He slides down to sitting, knocking his head back against the wall with a scoff. ]
/post-rescue, closed to akira, cw burns
His mask finally fizzles away as he touches his own cheek gingerly—and the regret is immediate. He withdraws, pressing a knuckle to his teeth to hiss sharply around it. The sting is dizzying now that he gives it a chance to sink in, though maybe it's just the residual fog in his lungs venting into his skull.
And still, he should count himself lucky.
—What a disaster. He slides down to sitting, knocking his head back against the wall with a scoff. ]