[ He almost calls his mask into place on reflex. Strangely, he can feel a distant twinge of Arsene's power for himself, their ceremonial connection setting off a chain reaction he still doesn't entirely get. But between that and Joker's sudden, commanding presence, Fox stops bristling and lets himself drift. He's too tired not to.
...He doesn't remember much of the trip back either, probably having passed out on Akira before they made their exit, but the next several days are peaceable. Or they are to him, anyway; the fog won't do any permanent damage, but it's enough to leave him winded if he strains himself any, and that means a whole lot of sitting at home. He works with Red on a new, improved pedestal for Sandra, takes to his paints as usual, and pays the Station a visit as soon as he's able. There's home visits and the occasional text, as well as a few extra Dias sprinkled along the way, and all-in-all, recovery is a slow but certain journey. He bounces back quickly enough from these things (or forces his way through them, which is practically the same thing), and once he's fully healed he has no intention of rotting away in his room. Sandra and Clair were recovered, Richie and Percival are returned. Normalcy comes with them. After a night spent in space, he goes back home and the dust settles.
That is, until he suddenly jerks awake in his sleep, snapped up to sitting with a headache thundering through his skull. Already the dream's starting to elude him as it's chased out by a racing heart, but it leaves him pallid, hand slowly releasing a white-knuckled grip on his comforter to comb through his hair and pull at the roots.
But he stops short on that too. It takes him a second to make out the blurry shape by his bedside, almost pushing it off. ]
...Akira.
[ Your bed's over there, guy. Still, he might be surprised, but he's not offended; they'd been roommates before, and it hasn't been long since the move. He's used to waking up to Akira there by now... if maybe a little further away. ]
no subject
...He doesn't remember much of the trip back either, probably having passed out on Akira before they made their exit, but the next several days are peaceable. Or they are to him, anyway; the fog won't do any permanent damage, but it's enough to leave him winded if he strains himself any, and that means a whole lot of sitting at home. He works with Red on a new, improved pedestal for Sandra, takes to his paints as usual, and pays the Station a visit as soon as he's able. There's home visits and the occasional text, as well as a few extra Dias sprinkled along the way, and all-in-all, recovery is a slow but certain journey. He bounces back quickly enough from these things (or forces his way through them, which is practically the same thing), and once he's fully healed he has no intention of rotting away in his room. Sandra and Clair were recovered, Richie and Percival are returned. Normalcy comes with them. After a night spent in space, he goes back home and the dust settles.
That is, until he suddenly jerks awake in his sleep, snapped up to sitting with a headache thundering through his skull. Already the dream's starting to elude him as it's chased out by a racing heart, but it leaves him pallid, hand slowly releasing a white-knuckled grip on his comforter to comb through his hair and pull at the roots.
But he stops short on that too. It takes him a second to make out the blurry shape by his bedside, almost pushing it off. ]
...Akira.
[ Your bed's over there, guy. Still, he might be surprised, but he's not offended; they'd been roommates before, and it hasn't been long since the move. He's used to waking up to Akira there by now... if maybe a little further away. ]