10277/Conversations in a Quiet Room

Conversations in a Quiet Room
Date of Scene:	02 December 2019
Location:	Gwendolyn's Room, Xavier's School
Synopsis:	After a tense afternoon, Brad and Gwendolyn open up to each other about many things.
Cast of Characters:	Haunt, Dragonfly (Armenteros)

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Haunt has posed:
When Gwen's returning to her room, after the discussion not far down the hallway, there's a voice that originates from the floor, maybe thigh height, to the left side of the door to Gwen's room as she gets closer.

"Hey," Brad says, invisibly, to identify his position. He's entirely invisible at the moment. He doesn't do it to startle, he didn't wait until she was RIGHT on top of him to do it. Also he didn't want to be stepped on. "To the left of your door." That's where he is, sitting on the floor, probably.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
After Nathaniel and Brad both left the discussion about the New Mutants, Gwendolyn extracted herself shortly after. She didn't really have much to say, other than 'I'll think about it.' The whole reveal had been a surprise, and she's still working to try and figure out exactly what to feel about it. Closing Andrea's door behind her, she took a breath and started down the hall - three rooms down and to the left from Andrea's room - when Brad spoke up.

At first, the voice does cause her to look up in a little bit of shock but, after a second, she realizes exactly who was speaking and she immediately dials back that 'ohgod!' that immediately comes up when an invisible voice speaks to you from near the floor. "Hey yourself." She responds once he's given her bearings on where he's sitting, shuffling closer until she feels her booted toe lightly bump what feels to be an invisible leg. "Lets you and me talk some." There's a rattling of keys as she unlocks her door, pushing it wide to allow him to enter first. "After you."

Haunt has posed:
If Brad nodded, it isn's visible. There's sounds of him getting up, though, running a few fingers up the wall and the molding of the foor to guide himself up easily. He hooks his hand in around it, limiting his telekinetic use, and enters ahead of her into her pitch black room with complete comfort. It isn't like he knows it's dark inside.

Brad allows his sweatshirt to reappear, then the pants, then shoes, after he's inside; hands are loose by his pockets, his posture a little deflated. He turns partially, orienting towards her, but is quiet for the moment, letting her come in or whatever else she had in mind.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
He can hear the movement as Gwendolyn steps into the room and closes the door behind her. This is followed by the sound of metallic clicking as a buckle is undone, her goggles coming off and going on to the stand by the door. The only light in the room is coming from the glow of the fireplace and, after a moment of adjusting herself, Gwendolyn heads over to add a pair of split logs to it, stirring the embers with a poker before sitting back, letting the warm glow of the coals bake her face and outstretched hands.

She turns her head to look towards him, sapphire blue eyes glinting in the glow of the fire's coals, before she stands and sits in one of the two chairs, the springs squeaking quietly as she relaxes in front of the fire. "Come sit a while?" she invites quietly. His Telekinesis knows there's a second chair close to where she sits, and that's obviously set aside just for him, for conversations that need to be had. And she waits until he sits or, at least, draws near, before speaking again. "I think that could have gone better. That whole conversation with Andrea. She meant well..."

Haunt has posed:
Brad comes over willingly, keeping his telekinetic use down to a minimal. It's a deliberate after-effect of the loss of control in Andrea's room: he's self-punishing a little bit. Keeping his world 'darker', reining in that ability. He sinks into the chair though, a little slouchy in position. "Yeah. I don't know what I think of it. I thought it was more like self-defense, but uniforms that they go outside in? I dunno about it," Brad sighs. "Felt like shit to be not invited to it. Like, why tell me about it. Maybe she meant it to inspire, like a goal could be to join, but I may never see well enough. But that's just me. I don't mean to speak for what you want. Sorry. I didn't mean to make this about me."

Brad pauses. "That isn't why I sat outside your door."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"She said they were for training purposes in the gym." Gwendolyn offers once the seat next to her settles a little with the weight of an invisible man or, at least, an invisible man's clothes. "Makes sense for her, since when she changes forms, her clothes get obliterated." Her room is sparsely decorated, with blankets and the like, but no real knick-knacks aside from a bowl with some yarn and knitting needles near the bed and a pen and journal on the desk along with a pile of notes for something she's working on. Brad's telekinetics won't have much to move around but blankets and Gwendolyn, which is fine.

"I don't think it was an invitation. I think it was more of a 'this is a thing we have' sort of meeting. I guess it was to give us something to shoot for. Give us a way to practice with our powers and when we were more in tune, they could talk about joining this secret team, or something." She sighs. "Looking back with hindsight, you always see what should have been said."

Gwendolyn rubs a hand over her face, her eyes closing for a second. "It's not just about you. It's something that needs to be talked about." she starts, but when he says it wasn't the only reason, she stops.

"Why were you, then?"

Haunt has posed:
"Well, I mean, don't let me change the subject. Something that needs to be talked about?" Brad says, embarrassment coming into his tone as he dodges back towards the first topic. He didn't mean to derail it: or perhaps wasn't ready to talk about the second thing yet. There's some self-consciousness there, or a nervousness.

"I noticed Shannon was hurt before. I sort of figured it was normal around here, with people losing control of their powers and stabbing others with knitting needles by accident." Brad clears his throat. "Not a real example." He did notice the knitting supplies though.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn is very good about not directly parrying that deflection back to the subject at hand, but she's not the sort to ignore it, either. Instead, she takes the third, less travelled route. "Listen." Her voice is quiet, Gwendolyn reaching over to feel for and, hopefully, find his hand, giving it a squeeze. "In here, it's just you and me. Whatever you say doesn't go beyond these walls or my ears. You don't have to talk if you don't want to." Her hand squeezes gently before releasing, Gwendolyn sitting back.

"One of Shannon's abilities is to heal, but at a cost. Say you get a broken arm, right? She can do some magic or something and fix your arm, but she takes the injury on herself. Thankfully, she's got a hell of a CON score and heals really, really fast, so that's how that works. At least from what I could make out. Shannon might have been helping out Triage in the wellness center or something. Or fought a giant world-ending monster that, somehow, was allergic to feathers." She shrugs. "Dunno."

Haunt has posed:
"Or maybe she was hurt while doing something with that group. Or somebody else was, and she was fixing them. I didn't ask at the time.... it wasn't my business," Brad says, a little uncomfortably. Maybe a bit of guilt. It wasn't his business, but should he have asked? He seems to shake off the question at least. His hand is easy enough to find on the arm of the chair at the end of the sweatshirt, there's only the usual bit of searching blindly required. He doesn't pull away.

Once Gwen's withdrawn, Brad puts some careful effort in, and his invisibility drops away fully, leaving him entirely visible. He cautiously - and somewhat a little blindly, extends his hand across the gap between them near the arm of her chair, but doesn't touch her. A quiet offering. Brave, in a way, as it faces rejection.

"It wasn't my stuff," Brad begins carefully. "You were talking about your family. I didn't know about it. I'm just... I'm sorry. Mine reject me. But I didn't know yours was... darker."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Probably wasn't." Gwendolyn concedes, her head tilting towards his, watching the headless sweatshirt for a second. "If her getting hurt was something she could talk about, she probably would have told you. Shannon's good about sharing things with the people she gets along with. If not..." She shrugs. "She probably would have had a cover story made up for that purpose. Either way, you're just being a concerned friend."

There's a crackle of the fireplace as the logs catch, a lick of flame starting to climb up the backside of one of the logs. That crackle coincides with Brad slowly fading into view and, for a second, Gwendolyn just looks at him. Studies him in the darkness of her room, memorizing the curve of his jaw, the touseled mess of his hair that flickers in and out of visibility. Then she notices his hand, palm up, between the two chairs and, after a scant few seconds of silent girlish screaming in her head, he feels her bare fingertips brush over his, sliding down his fingers to his palm, curling against him as she holds his hand.

"I said it there, and I'll say it again. It's okay. I'm free from them. I made it here, where I'm safe, with friends. It was...tough. The past six months coming up here on foot." She sighs. "I really hate to remember it, but I do because it's given me a point of view that not a lot of people get. I know what the bottom is like and how deep it can go." She gives his hand a squeeze. "Yours rejected you, but you're at least still part of it. I was adopted into mine and now...I don't know. I'm just me. S'why I'm working on gifts for people up here for christmas. Time to make a new family of my choosing."

Haunt has posed:
His dark eyes are generally towards her, but they aren't registering perfectly; there's a sense of him not entirely seeing her, of being unable to actually meet her gaze, since he can't visually find her eyes to do so. There's possibly a safety in it: he can be stared at, because he's unable to catch her doing it or judge for a stare that's gone on too long. His visibility flickers with a slight jolt of his fingers when she touches his palm, since he didn't know when to anticipate it, but he stays visible after that.

"If that's true, you're stronger than I am. I want to go back to my family, all fixed, all better. Like you'd come home from the hospital after cracking your shin on another guy's helmet," Brad sighs. Sounds like a real example. "I don't know how you've let go of it," he asks, softer, worried loss in his tone.

"With your eyes... can you still cry?" Wonders the boy, thoughtful, but perhaps surprisingly empathetic.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The darkness of the room is more than likely too much for him, with the only light coming from the low flickering of her fireplace, the nimbus of light not extending for much more than a few inches beyond the pair. For her, it's plenty, but for him, it may be almost like being blind, the lack of light. There are shapes he can make out, though. The curve of her jaw or the arcing of her brows below her antenna, or even her antenna. They're different, but they're certainly markers that would make it trivial for him to focus on her eyes.

"I've let go of it because, if I didn't...it'd burn me up inside. If I gave back hate with hate, I wouldn't be any better than that family down there. I'd give them a reason. I'd be a way for them to say 'see? we were right!' and I don't want to give them that sort of heat." She squeezes his hand, holding it tightly. "I don't have a home to go back to, Brad. I don't have anyone, anywhere, but these four walls and those that inhabit them with me."

Can she cry? Her head leans back, her eyes closing. "I can. I do. Almost every night."

Haunt has posed:
Brad exhales a slow breath out of his nose. The low light makes his eyes not hurt, but the blurriness he still has from his vision is still a general problem. He hadn't been trying to force his eyes to focus, either: looking generally towards her was fine. He mostly did it so that she could see him, not the other way around, at the moment. So her being vaguely where she is and blurry is okay. He's not dizzy, and that's the important part at the moment. He's used to the dark, so there's a comfort there, weirdly. Not that he'd admit it.

"How'd you get to be here? Did they just find you by happenstance?" Brad asks. "I'm still really angry. About everything. Not this place, just. Being an unwanted thing."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
This actually gets a small laugh from Gwendolyn, despite the seriousness of the subject. She smiles a little and looks over to Brad, hopefully he can make out the movement. "Believe it or not, I have Andrea to thank for me being here indirectly. You know that phone number she puts on the back of all of her CD's and at the end of her YouTube videos? The ones for Starlight? Well...that. They led me up here, more or less."

Starlight is the helpline for Mutants that Andrea set up using her fame with a 1-800 number for anyone that needed help. Gwendolyn, when she ran from home, certainly needed help and, with no one to turn to, called that number and that, in turn, started her on a journey from the deepest south to New York State where, somehow, in the middle of the Mall in Salem, she and Shannon and Andrea all met. "And that got me here." She concludes, shifting in her seat, pulling one leg up under the other knee, sitting in a half-indian style pose, kind of turned towards Brad. "That's not the important thing, though."

A second hand moves over to grab the first, Gwen holding one of Brad's hands with both of hers. "You have every right to be angry, Brad, but you're wrong. You're not an unwanted thing. Not to this school. Not to yourself. Not to me." And those last two should matter the most.

Haunt has posed:
"Well. I'm trying to get there," Brad emotionally limps back, at her important statements. His head shies a little bit, in that he turns his face down and away slightly, briefly aware that he's visible, which creates some funky body language from the boy. He doesn't pull his hand away, though. He has broad hands for his stature, suggestive that he hasn't had his last growth spurt yet: slightly too large of hands and feet gives him a little bit of a puppyish teen thing.

"Andrea mentioned her suicide hotline thing to me. I got really insulted," Brad admits. "Like she thought I needed that. I didn't. I don't." The firmness of that statement probably reveals that he doth protest too much about the subject. He moves his forearm on the arm of the chair a little, turning his hand over to have the palm face downwards, but still well within the possession of both of her hands.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwen pats his hand lightly with hers, her fingertips gentle over the skin on the back of his hand. "As long as you don't stop trying, that's the important part. Too many people have stopped trying and don't do anything else with their life." She takes a breath. "You're really strong, you know? You're still going, despite all that's gone on." Blind would have sent most people crying to the top of a tall building to take a short stroll, but invisible and blind and having everything taken away would have ended most people. But not Brad.

The suicide hotline, though? That gets a shake of her head. "Andrea's hotline isn't a suicide hotline. If it was, you'd be in the right to be insulted about it, but it's not, and I think that's just a miscommunication between you and her. Just do like that old movie said to. Just let it go."

Haunt has posed:
"Nah, I'm too afraid I'll get hit by a bus and bleed out slowly in an alley invisibly," Brad chuckles softly, uncomfortably. That's one of his very real fears. Dying invisibly and nobody sees or helps him, they just walk on by. Nightmare fuel for the invisible.

"Oh. I just ... I remember the word coming up. I also had not eaten for a few days at the time and I was uncomfortable taking charity. I don't remember anymore. I was insulted then, but like. I don't think it was /at/ me, even if she does have a hotline. I'm less crazy now." There's a smile in his voice towards the end. "/Less/ crazy; I don't suggest I'm entirely sane, really." He shifts a little playful, fluttering his fingers under her palm a little.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
That is rather nightmarish. Being injured and no-one able to help because they literally do not know you're there. "That's not going to happen. We'll practice, you and I. Getting your powers to where you can see and use them at the same time. Turn them off without the giant backpack, if you want. I mean..." She smiles. "Imagine you on the field. With your TK, you'd be a one-man team, able to pass to yourself while defending against all comers." She knows that won't happen but, for a second, it's neat to imagine a one-man cheat code winning the super bowl.

"We all go a little mad, sometimes." Gwendolyn says quietly. "After all, it's so common that the marketing geniuses that do commercials did a whole series with that as the basis to sell Snickers, remember?" He might, or he might not. Gwen's just trying to bring a little levity to a very serious situation.

Haunt has posed:
"I can catch /anything/," Brad brags in response, as she suggests he's on a field and being a super-player. "Probably even a bullet. I haven't tried, since nobody has shot at me, I haven't created that opportunity." There's a little shiver. "Anyway. Because I'm such a horribly powerful football cheater, I won't ever be able to play." Brad releases another sigh, his hand drooping. "That was my world, from like... I don't know, eight years old until I lost my sight. Football." The loss of the dream clearly grinds down on his mood. "That was going to get me my scholarships for music." The other dream.

"I'm ... treading water. Until I'm fixed." Uncertainty there, and shredded, mangled hope, but the hope isn't dead. "I can't see if you're smiling," Brad says quietly.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"Yeah, I'm smiling." Gwendolyn's voice is still soft. The closeness that they're sharing means that she doesn't need to shout to be heard over the crackling of the fire, and for something so small, it's not even in the running for a lie. "You'll see sometime soon. Promise. The second your sight is where it needs to be, you and me. We'll go do something. See a movie. A play. A concert. Hell. I'll even go watch a Patriot's game with you, but I hope it doesn't take /that/ long." She means next season, but you never know. Brad could surprise her and she'll have to hit up a playoff game this year. That's terrifying.

The sound of his voice, the way he's barely holding it together, is something familiar to Gwendolyn. "Dreams are renewable." She pats his hand gently. "No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities. What do you think star players do when they get injured, never to play football again? They can't just stop being. So they do something else. There's always new beauty, waiting to be born. When your eyes work again, when your powers are under your control, you'll be able to dream new dreams. Football may not be in the cards anymore, but music? That might still have a route, especially with Andrea bouncing around. But if not that? Politics. Science. Philosophy. Chef. I mean, I bet that, once you get your powers going, you could julienne the /hell/ out of an onion."

Haunt has posed:
"What is 'julienne'? I can already crush one -- Yeah, I know I'd be killer working a haunted house," Brad answers, trying to go along with the joke but failing. He disappears, invisibility engaged again with a slight flux of his telekinetic breeze. It will stir the fire, blankets and some objects in the bathroom around, but not much more than that. It may also seem a little deliberate: he's dodging being looked at, because his emotions are deepening. He's not holding it together very well, but he doesn't want her to see.

He's quiet for a time, as if being thoughtful, but he also doesn't trust his voice at the moment, with emotions crawling up his throat like they are.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The thing with questions? If you don't know, the worst question is the one that isn't asked. "Julienne is cutting finely, like little strips about the size of a toothpick. It requires a lot of dexterity which, with practice, I think you could be great at." When he disappears, though, Gwendolyn doesn't say anything else, studying the way his telekinetic power rearranges things slightly on shelves, causing the shower curtain in her bathroom to ripple, the log in the fire to shift like a hand was brushed against it.

"You asked me earlier if I cried, Brad." There's a soft movement as she stands, still holding his hands, and shifts to sit on the arm of the chair he's in. "I don't think that's the right question." She leans in, releasing his hands for now, and hesitantly tries to draw him into a hug. "Crying isn't weakness, despite what all that macho bullcrap out there says. Tearless grief bleeds inwards."

Haunt has posed:
That she's up and moving towards him pulls him out of his pity party as it is; he's unsure what Gwen is doing or where she's moving to, and he has to pay attention to keep track of it: the light telekinetic breeze proves he's got an 'eye' on what she's up to.

He clears his throat a little aggressively, the 'jock front' pulled to the surface like a reflex. "Pretty sure it's weakness for guys anyway," Brad teases back, scoffing, his defense being to make a joke out of it. He may be invisible, but there's /tons/ of macho bullcrap on display!

Brad isn't sure about why she's come over, and drew one hand up invisibly towards her face and cheek: not that she'll see it there. A hug will cause his invisible forearm to get a little caught between them, his palm moved adaptively towards the side of her neck instead, to sort out the tangled issue. His other hand comes towards her knee, as he realizes that she's seated on the chair's arm, not coming into his lap. It was all a little bumbling, as he misinterprets.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Gwendolyn's sweater is soft against what skin he has bare, obfuscating the curves she has beneath it slightly, as if his forearm had that sort of tactile response. His TK might, though. She's not picky right now. It's not exactly what she was expecting when his arm ends up where it does, but when it gets all tangled, she does her best to untangle herself as well. Gwen stands and readjusts herself, sitting back down. This ends up with Gwendolyn perched on Brad's lap side-saddle, her knees facing the direction of her chair, her back towards the door.

"Yeah, it is. Every boy I knew had to put on this front. That they were strong, emotionless titans that weathered the slings and arrows of adversity without a scratch or shudder. Don't suffer in silence because 'no one wants to hear about your problems.' I'd rather hear about all your problems than have you suddenly vanish and then it turns out you've died." She taps his nose or therabouts, probably getting his cheek before she zones in. "You're not alone, Brad. Let's fight this. Together."

Haunt has posed:
Well that got a little confused, but Brad isn't unused to that: he's had people try to shake his hand and it ends up smacking him or something because he didn't pick up on it. This isn't all that strange, except that he expected (assumed?) she'd just withdraw once things got tangled. Instead, she's /closer/, on him. His cheeks flame with a mix of all sorts of emotional reactions to that.

In truth he's at a particularly weak point: for his extremely low emotional state, and that she's moving to comfort ... and mostly that there's a girl quite that close and on his lap. It's new. There's no way he has enough wherewithal to turn visible, so there's nothing to see. Her chair does spin and move a few feet away weirdly, and her bathroom door shuts with the flutter of telekinetics.

"Okay," Brad says quietly, giving way without much of any stubbornness or pause as she taps his lower lip with her finger, with a quiet little warm exhale against her hand. His hands end up close to waist level: what he should have done in the first place when she'd started the hug.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
The chair can be righted, the bathroom door closing and opening too, won't cause any harm. Her violin is put away safely in its case in the corner, and that seems to be just out of range of his powers, much to Gwens relief. She's slow. She's careful. She's very aware that he can't see her - and if he could, he'd probably run away screaming at the sight - but he is a boy and she is a girl and this is something that she's good at. Being comforting.

Gwendolyn settles against him, his arms around her waist from what she can tell, and from the breath on her finger, she ended up shushing him instead of actually tapping his nose. Still, it got the point across and seemed to break down his barriers a little bit. "One thing. You and me? We're friends, okay? And friends keep secrets. If you want to cry, rend your clothes, or whatever, you can do that here. Ain't nobody gonna hear you through these walls an' I ain't gonna share th' fact." She's slipping into Creole accent Gwendolyn. "You start sayin' things that worry me 'bout you, ah'm gonna share with folks that c'n help. Yous got a big load to shoulder, an' ain't nobody 'cept Jesus carryin' one bigger'n that. I ain't gonna let you fall down, Brad."

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
"An' if you do. Ah'm gonna help you get back on your feet."

Haunt has posed:
Brad's extremely touch oriented due to his vision problems. His telekinesis can tell him where things are, but touch is still critical. He's a little tense, uncomfortable, exposed, weirdly embarrassed. But she hasn't done anything to suggest she's mocking him. This isn't any worse than the time he barfed in her trash can. He adjusts his position a little, one forearm more around her now to her opposite hip to ensure she doesn't fall on the floor, but his other hand comes up, careful, towards her neck then cheek again, if she lets him.

He's checking out her expression, by touch, against her cheek and mouth. It's more important than she may realize it is - he's checking for a confirmation of what tone he's hearing in her voice. Though what it will seem like is a strange gentle caress of neck and cheek, down to the lip, of an invisible hand.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
She doesn't pull away, twist, or change her expression. Gwendolyn remains absolutely still while phantom fingers brush over her neck and cheek. She does blink, from time to time, but that doesn't change her expression. She's not mocking him. She's not making fun, poking at him, or jesting in any way. "I ain't gonna let you fall, Brad." she says again.

Haunt has posed:
Brad finishes his investigation with his fingers: a slow, gentle examination, and seems to decide something, after a little pause. He's still quiet, his breathing soft but even, not stressed. He drops his hand from her face, to find the one she'd shushed him with, and draws her fingers open, then guiding her hand to the side of where she shushed, to cheek level.

It may be confusing at first, but he's allowing her to /feel/ that he did cry some, during the mixed silence, sometime after the point when he went invisible. "Okay," Brad repeats, tone tightened, an exposed little injured animal.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
Brad may be expecting her to laugh, to make fun, to even giggle faintly when she feels those tears against her fingertips, but Gwendolyn doesn't. Not in the least. She simply shifts and leans against him, close, resting her head on his shoulder or, as near as she can tell, stroking her fingertips over his cheek, tracing those trails of tears carefully and, after a long silence, she simply nods.

"Okay." Gwendolyn taps Brad's cheek, leaving her hand there for now. "Okay." That quiet expression is enough. In it are several dozen things that could take hours to describe. Your secret is safe here. You can be vulnerable here, without judgement. You can be you, here. Your dreams are safe. You are not broken. You do not have to be strong.

Haunt has posed:
He tensed up, but had reasonable trust in his choice there. To open up to his friend. His jaw works a little bit, pressing his tongue between his teeth, and he crumbles, dropping his hand back around her and hugging her in snugly against his chest and side.

He's quiet, but he's saying things with his actions as well: accepting her, letting her in, and holding her in return.

Dragonfly (Armenteros) has posed:
They stay like this for as long as he needs, Gwendolyn not moving much, save to gesture towards the small brass carrier holding logs when the fire starts getting low, to see if Brad can move the stick part into the mass of other glowing sticks. And if he can't, or isn't ready to, she does it anyway, then settles right back into his lap, his arms around her, her arms around him.

Brad doesn't need to speak - Gwendolyn's hearing it all loud and clear. He's been so alone, for so long. He's watched his world ripped from him, along with his sight, pitching him into darkness. It's the lonliest moment in someone's life, when they're watching the world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly. Gwendolyn's been there. Brad's been there. Now? They're here.

Haunt has posed:
There isn't any need to get up, though he was a little slow to realize what she wanted. He does it as she started to lift away; Brad handles the log with care, fully able to extract a log and put it gently into place without a shower of sparks. It's a bit of a welcome thing: to be able to do something she asked him to do. And to guide her back into place, in shared body warmth and comfort.

Brad returns to visibility, though she may or may not see him do it right away, his neck will be there if she opens her eyes. His own are closed. For a little while, there's no evidence of anything weird about him at all. He's calmed down, held together by her embrace perhaps - but he's a boy that isn't staring down his problems for a little while. And that relief is one of the most important things she could have provided.

Brad adjusts one arm against her elbow, aware of the slight difference in her skin, but not shying. She's welcome, as she is.