Jesus christ, [ there he is. A dark shape just beyond the doorway, catapulted through the open space and not through the wall itself. Isn't that just luck for you.

He's moving, slowly. Rolling onto his front with a wince, leveraging himself to his knees. Hands wrapped around one another, held tight to his stomach like he's guarding old hurts. A litany, a string of curses escapes him, the way one might pray over a rosary. He can hear her, and he's slow to respond. Sorry for it, but he can't go any faster than this. He gets a leg under him, braces his weight on it - and leans far enough to locate her: ] Here. I'm here, it's okay.

[ Hoarse, thready. It's been - god, it's been so long since he'd talked to someone who -- looked like her. All normal and shit. Concern in her voice. His answer is

just like him ] Hi. Come here often?