dream feeling a little wild during the prison break because he’s so exhausted and starving and injured and overwhelmed and covered in grime and somewhere he lost his shoes and it’s freezing out here and everyone he hates is in one place and he’s not thinking rationally and and
And. He goes back to see Punz again at the end of the day. To plan, of course. To learn. When he gets to their tower, or wherever they’re meeting, Punz has some food ready. Just a small bowl. “I had extra,” he says. “Just thought I’d offer,” he says. And Dream takes it because of course he does, because it’s better than anything he’s had for years it feels like, and then he and Punz talk but it’s really only Punz talking. Slowly while this happens, Punz gathers clean clothes and medical supplies and pillows. Just causally. And Dream is so tired he doesn’t even notice. And they dim the lights. Because they’re smart, you know, they know Dream can’t handle direct help or let himself be cared for, yet. But the darkness squirms at the corners of his eyes and once he’s clean, or cleaner, and fed, and bandaged, and laying on a hard ground with soft blankets, he doesn’t have the energy anymore to be embarrassed or paranoid or defensive. And in ten hours when he wakes up to find Punz just sitting, close enough to be seen and studied but far enough to be safe, his body feels just a little less like a ripped seam.
