"Oh..." he said. He covered his face with both hands, palms against his eyes, fingers in his hair. "It's you..."
He let his head fall back onto the soft surface beneath it. The warmth pressed against the back of his skull, yielding, comfortable, and for a moment he just lay there, hands over his face, breathing, letting his body remember what it felt like to be awake and alive and not in danger.
Then his awareness started coming back. In layers.
The first layer was physical. His body - where it was, what it felt like, what it was resting on. No pain. That was the strangest part. After the night he'd had - the heist, the fall, the training, the lizard, everything - his body should have been a ledger of accumulated damage. Instead it felt neutral. Present, functional, completely free of the aches, strains and bruises that had been his constant companions for days.
