[ Even though things ended with minimal injuries, it was a near thing. He's still not used to calling for the power that sits in the back of his skull and having it respond with such a clamor. It makes the seas boil in his veins, and each breath feels insubstantial, the air too light in his chest. There's nothing in there anchoring him down, and it makes his jacket feel like a pile of weights hanging off his shoulders. His sneakers caught on the threshold when he entered the archives, more like cinderblocks than shoes.
He's in the middle of trying to think of the best way to alleviate this newest uncomfortable existence when someone knocks at his door, the sound cushioned by the quiet hum of the servers, and snaps his attention taut. Normally March at least tries to text him first before hunting him down on foot. The train is long enough that a mistaken trip from the dining car to the cabin car can waste time for something small. Did he — where is his phone? Maybe he left it in the parlor car...
Uh. He should... at least see what she needs. Carefully he moves his feet across the floor, avoiding his suitcase and the extra terminals, and slides the door open in a motion that is more familiar than conscious. Dan Heng blinks down at March in the hallway, and carefully musters up the most eloquent sentence he can. ]
no subject
He's in the middle of trying to think of the best way to alleviate this newest uncomfortable existence when someone knocks at his door, the sound cushioned by the quiet hum of the servers, and snaps his attention taut. Normally March at least tries to text him first before hunting him down on foot. The train is long enough that a mistaken trip from the dining car to the cabin car can waste time for something small. Did he — where is his phone? Maybe he left it in the parlor car...
Uh. He should... at least see what she needs. Carefully he moves his feet across the floor, avoiding his suitcase and the extra terminals, and slides the door open in a motion that is more familiar than conscious. Dan Heng blinks down at March in the hallway, and carefully musters up the most eloquent sentence he can. ]
... Hi. [ Oh, buddy. ] What's wrong?