[His wandering is aimless, lost in thought and turning the circumstances of his arrival here over and over inside his head, trying to make sense of it all, trying to have it sink down into the bones of him in the hope that it will start to feel like something other than the strangest of fever-dreams. He's so caught up in the otherness of it all that his surroundings pass him by in a blur, distant and unnoticed.
That is, until he hears the shape of his name - his pet name, no less, the name only one person is likely to use - notes the familiarity of her voice as he begins to turn around, confused and--
--and. Portia slams into him hard enough to knock the breath from him, to send him stumbling back a step before he's able to catch himself. It's second-nature, though, to wind his arms around her in turn and whilst there's a sudden blossoming of gladness in him at the welcome sight of her, it's all caught up in his concern and, quite frankly, his confusion.]
Pasha, what are you doing here?
[There's worry in his voice as he looks down at the woman clinging to him, and its a smattering of seconds before he picks up on the other thing.]
no subject
That is, until he hears the shape of his name - his pet name, no less, the name only one person is likely to use - notes the familiarity of her voice as he begins to turn around, confused and--
--and. Portia slams into him hard enough to knock the breath from him, to send him stumbling back a step before he's able to catch himself. It's second-nature, though, to wind his arms around her in turn and whilst there's a sudden blossoming of gladness in him at the welcome sight of her, it's all caught up in his concern and, quite frankly, his confusion.]
Pasha, what are you doing here?
[There's worry in his voice as he looks down at the woman clinging to him, and its a smattering of seconds before he picks up on the other thing.]
What are you talking about, came back?