Damon didn't immediately return to the world around him.
For a few seconds—maybe longer—he remained lying down, his body heavy against the mattress, his muscles still echoing the continuous effort that exceeded the norm. It wasn't just physical exhaustion. It was… draining. Overuse. As if something inside him had been pushed to its limit—and yet, sustained.
Lily was beside him, completely relaxed, her breathing finally steady, her body loose in a way that made it clear: whatever had happened there… it worked.
Damon ran a hand slowly over his face, releasing the air in a long sigh.
"...eight hours," he murmured, more to himself than anything else.
Silence.
And then—
The interface appeared.
Not abruptly as before.
But smoothly.
Integrated.
[Interaction completed.]
He blinked slowly.
"...of course there's a report for that," he grumbled.
New lines began to appear, organized with the same irritatingly efficient precision.
[Bonus acquired.]
