"You good?" ((@hoverpunk))
Scar was acutely aware of the weight of the small vial in his pocket - the press of it against his leg.
The itch in his brain was an incessant, awfully familiar thrum. The surge of relief and joy at seeing his friend's eyes open had only offered a fleeting distraction; it was next to impossible to concentrate on the flow of conversation around him now.
Would it be too abrupt to stand up and walk out? Was it finally safe to leave Ekko, with him conscious and responsive, with all the other Firelights piled into the room, with the pink glint finally faded from Jinx's eyes?
Was it safe to go?
He needed to dispose of the shimmer, urgently, before anyone else realised it was here. Before the itch in the back of his mind grew any more maddeningly insistent.
"You good?"
The vastayan visibly startled, breaking out of his deep rumination. Green eyes snapped up to Eve's face, pupils just a fraction too wide, facial muscles too tense, broadcasting the frayed edges to his stoic composure.
"...Just tired," he muttered by way of response, stiffly patting at Ekko's leg in a tacit goodbye, and rising to his feet.
Itch.
Itch.
Itch.
He caught Eve's eye again, pointedly, as he headed for the door.
"Getting coffee. Want some?"
I need your help. Come with me.
@hoverpunk
