evocation | ⚡ hadriel

Okay.

[It's to both comments, and he thinks to pick up his phone before closing his eyes; who know what it'll actually feel like to teleport--and, normally, he's been really interested in finding out--but closing his eyes seems like the right thing to do right now.]

Ready.

[Kyna reaches out to take his free hand, not because she needs to, but because she thinks it might give him something to center himself with. The spell is easy enough to cast—she's been in his apartment so many times that she barely has to think about it, and while she's used to the effects, for Lance, it might feel like an unpleasant, stomach turning jerk.]

[Taking his hand does help, even if it also causes him to register how sticky and gross his hand feels with the drying blood on it, but that's an issue for later. He's far more focused on the feeling of the teleportation itself, and okay, yeah, weird is definitely a word for it; he might've been able to handle it a little better if he weren't already stressed out and suffering from blood loss, but as it is his stomach lurches and he has to press the back of his hand to his mouth in order to try to control a wave of nausea.

Nevermind, he's no longer curious about teleporting anymore.

After a few seconds, though, the sick feeling subsides, and he hesitantly opens his eyes to fix Kyna with a look that might be likened to that of a very sad puppy.]

I thought teleporting was supposed to be cool.

It is cool. You just have to get used to it.

[They're still on the floor, so she stands up, offering him her hand.]

I'll go punch Michael tomorrow.

Sure it is.

[He watches her stand up, eyebrows furrowing a little as a subconscious reaction to his head starting to hurt, and it's really tempting to just stay her on the floor. But he needs to get up, and take care of his leg, and wash off some of this blood and get a change of clothes.

So he lets her help him up, closing his eyes again as his head spins when he gets to his feet, but it clears off again enough that he thinks he'll be fine to accomplish his short list of things to do. But before that--]

Don't punch Michael. If not because of Michael, then just... Don't get into a fight with that thing.

[The thing Michael summons, not Michael himself. Now that Lance is kind of getting through the initial shock, finally, it's sinking in just how horrifying the creature and the fight actually were.

And, with the proper timing to break the mood a little, a certain fennec fox appears from a kitchen cabinet she's doubtlessly not supposed to be in, making a loud churring noise for attention as she stalks over.]

[Kyna scowls, but she's incapable of ignoring Sandy, so she scoops her up. Her annoyance doesn't have quite the same effect when she's snuggling a fox.]

He deserves it.

Maybe, but we all have enough problems already.

[And he really doesn't want her getting hurt. Sure, she's way better at magic than he is and is presumably used to fighting things like this, but the gun had been far more effective than magic and so he's not at all sure she'd have the upper hand.

And okay, good, she's distracting Sandy, and Lance tries taking a careful step toward the bathroom on his injured leg; it's a relief when it holds, even if he definitely doesn't want to walk on it more than he has to, because it means he should be able to handle dealing with everything just fine himself. So, before he does that--]

There's um, some actual food here this time, so help yourself to whatever. I'll be back in a sec.

[Or longer, but whatever.]

[Kyna can't help but shoot him a little bit of a look, but she lets him go. When he comes back, she's eating a sandwich, and there's one waiting for him, too. Sandy, of course, still isn't leaving her alone.]

[It takes him a little while to get everything taken care of as far as his injuries and washing off the blood, including a detour to his room to get a change of clothes. But eventually he does return, looking more like himself aside from the paleness and dust still in his hair, and he joins her at the table.

If asked before he saw it, he would've said he had exactly zero interest in a sandwich or any food in general, but it actually looks surprisingly good. Still, he doesn't move to eat it just yet, fixing Sandy and her begging with a faintly amused look before turning his gaze toward Kyna.]

Thanks. You didn't have to make me anything.

I know.

[Kyna studies him, still frowning. He looks a little better, at least.]

Are you sure you're okay?

[Ugh don't study him like that, even though he does the same thing to other people all the time. At the question he turns his attention toward the sandwich, poking idly at it.]

I will be, yeah.

[It's not a lie, but he also doesn't want to go into it too much right now. The whole thing is too recent and he hasn't processed it at all yet, but he knows he could be a lot worse, so he should be fine in a little time.]

I'm sorry to have worried you so much.

God, don't apologize for that.

[She rests her shoulder against his.]

Sorry I freak you out. You know, with the shirt thing.

[He gently leans against her shoulder for a moment in return, then shakes his head.]

That wasn't your fault.

[He offers a faint smile.]

We might both have to agree not to apologize about anything else.

Yeah, okay.

[That's probably a good idea.]

Do you want to, um... Talk about it?

[He doesn't immediately refuse, which is what he'd do with almost anyone else, but he does eventually give a long exhale as he shakes his head.]

Not right now, but thank you.

[Maybe in the future, but it's a conversation he would need to mentally prepare for and he definitely can't handle that right now after everything else that happened today.]

I'm just... Going to try to eat some of this sandwich and then sleep for like, ten hours. You don't have to stay, if you don't want to.

[That's also fair, so Kyna lets it go.]

Nope. You're not getting rid of me. I'm taking over your couch.

[He appreciates that she accepts that answer, and gives another faint smile at her comment.]

I have a spare bedroom, you know.

[No need to sleep on the couch.]

Oh, right.

[Whoops.]

Fine. I'm taking over your spare bedroom, then.

Fair enough.

[He finally convinces himself to start on his sandwich, though he does toss a small bite to Sandy. She's not spoiled at all, nope.]

Are you feeling okay, yourself?

[He's kind of been forgetting about the effects of the illness himself, because they're blending into the effects of blood loss, but he realizes with some guilt that she might be feeling sick too.]

[Kyna shrugs, then nods.]

Mostly. I mean, better than a lot of people, I think.

[She's just been generally feverish and feeling gross.]

Don't start worrying about me, though.

[Okay, well, that's good; at least it's not worse. However--]

Too late; I'm already worrying.

[But he's half-teasing as he says it, willing to take her word for it at the moment that she isn't horribly sick at least.]

There's some tea um... Somewhere, if you want it.

Okay. Thanks.

[She reaches out to scratch Sandy behind her ears.]

You seriously don't want me to talk to Michael?

[Sandy makes a delighted and very cute noise, leaning into the ear-scratching with one eye closed, although the other is still watching Lance in hopes of getting more sandwich.]

I can't tell you what to do, but just... Don't get into a fight with that thing, at least.

[He doesn't want her getting hurt because of him; he's not going to tell her she can't talk to Michael, just hopefully not in person. The Visitor is horrifying and ridiculously dangerous and no matter how capable Kyna is, Lance doesn't want her taking that kind of risk just because she's upset about what happened to him.]

[Ugh, Sandy is so cute. Kyna still takes a second to wrinkle her nose at Lance, though.]

Maybe that thing needs an ass kicking.

[Lance gives a small sigh, gaze shifting back to his sandwich.]

I'm not sure anything really hurts it. Losing part of its leg just seemed to inconvenience it and nothing more.

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