#belated

this post may be messy so sorry!! i have been tweaking this set for weeks and weeks and i must post before i lose my mind lol. sooo:

first of all HUGE thank you to the amazing @channel4sims-cc for generously helping me make the incense cute and BGC!! check out their amazing bgc incense burners and all their stuff here :))

second, the set! we've got 9 objects total - everything has a bunch of swatches, all are low-poly (under 500k) and base game compatible. i hand-made all the meshes and hand-painted all the textures, so a lot of love and energy went into making this set!

i really hope you enjoy <3

✧₊⁺ download: patreon / sfs ⁺₊✧

ko-fi if you feel so inclined 𖤓

★ community inspo board ★

♡ like if you like & don't hesitate to let me know if there are any issues!

“The mission was a success.” Hunter confidently announces following the conclusion of this most recent interrogation session. “I’ll tell the boys to stand-by for further instruction.”

“I would hardly consider the mission a success.” Tech argues, announcing his own perceived discrepancies pertaining to the matter. “We failed to apprehend the right man.”

“But the one in custody brings us that much closer to doing so.” Hunter tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder for added reassurance. “Take your wins as they come. We did good today.”

Tech is dismissed feeling rather incomplete, but a comm message requesting he meet at your special spot hidden away just for you to reconvene after a long day brightens his spirits. A grin is spread across his features when he pulls up the message reading: [The usual place when you’re free. See you there.]

It’s not far from the Coruscanti clone headquarters. Only a couple levels below at the most. It is a vacant little cubby enclosed within the bustling ecumenopolis. A covert place nestled into the fortified ferrocrete and steel infrastructure. Tech descends through a mechanical lift, ensuring no one is following him so that this location remains a secret.

Tech bypasses a large rolling steel door, opening it slightly and resealing the hatch behind himself. As soon as he turns around, he notices a cupcake with a glowing sparkler sticking out of a heaping hill of bright blue icing. Hanging behind the sweet treat on the wall is a marquee poster with the phrase “Happy Decanting Day!” inscribed on it.

“As I have stated before, frivolous personal holidays aren’t observed by clones.” Tech chuckles, heaving a breath at the cracking sparkler; a pillar of smoke rising from it. “I appreciate the gesture. I’m sure it will be an even better day with you.”

Tech picks up the cupcake, plucking the sparkler from the top to get ready to taste. He turns on his heels, expecting you there ready to greet him, but he sees you in a completely different condition altogether.

“No!” He drops the dessert, rushing to your side so fast he nearly collapses to his knees, but the sturdy barrel of a blaster stops him short.

Blood is staining the fabric of your dress. You wanted to look so pretty for him, but here you are with your makeup smudged from your eye being swollen shut, streams leaking from a gash just past your hairline while you remain cuffed to the set of chair legs.

Tech cannot get any closer, the frigid steel digging fiercely into his temple. “Have a seat.”

Tech looks at you and then the barrel pointed at his face. A cloth has been shoved into your mouth, gagging you so that you can’t enunciate anything beyond a muffled groan. Tech doesn’t follow the instructions at first, prompting the man in their midst to shout even louder at him, startling Tech into obeying. 

“I said sit!” He shouts as he shoves Tech down into the chair beside you. He takes a breath to steady himself, leaning against the grimy wall. “She and I have been chatting about how you knew I was in this sector.”

“Look at me.” Tech ignores him, choosing to communicate with you instead. “I’m right here. We’ll get out of this.”

“Ha-ha.” He sarcastically laughs at Tech’s optimism. “I admire your confidence, but let’s not make any false promises, eh?”

Just as he finishes his thought, he reveals a curved dagger he kept concealed until this moment where its poignance will convince Tech to listen. Without ceremony, he stabs you in the top of the thigh, slamming his fist down onto your flesh whilst likewise impaling you. Your screams are muted by the gag, but it doesn’t diminish the pain of your quadricep being skewered. The tip of the blade grinds against your bone, sending shockwaves of agony down to your toes.

“You bastard!” Tech loses all composure, spitting the insult with ferocious animosity at the heights of your wails.

“Funny. That’s not my name.” The man taunts bending over to rest his palms on his knees, the dagger still in hand. Tech can get a better glance at his face. He looks just like the mugshot shared amongst his squad during the briefing about a certain high-value suspect. Long, oily black hair buzzed at both sides, pallid skin that would suggest he spends most of his time underground or at least out of direct sunlight and a peculiar set of orbital cybernetics granting him a pair of heterochromatic eyes; one white and the other red. “Say it. I know you know it.”

 “Xirk Qarvet.” Tech growls in response, his patience being tested with these rhetoricals. “Are you going to have me recite the name of your biochemist as well?”

“No, that’s good enough.” Xirk laughs loudly when he realizes Tech is correct, pronunciation and all. It echoes through the lengthy undercity catacombs until it dissipates into nothing. “If I am completely honest, I cannot recall his name myself. I was more interested in the service he provided. I ought to thank you for your help. You saved me quite a few credits, but I’m wondering if you will provide me with what I need as well.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m going to help you.” Tech wants to leap at him, strangle him with his bare hands or gouge out his dual-colored eyes with his thumbs, but this barrel to his temple and blade in your thigh dictate otherwise.

“I don’t want your help. Frankly, I don’t need any.” Xirk yanks the dagger from where it is embedded in your thigh, reigniting the torment you have barely had even a moment’s reprieve from. He drags the blade against your cheek as he laughs sinisterly, watching as Tech strains to hold himself back when red streaks are painted along your brow. Your tears soak into the gag as you sniffle and whimper, praying all this to just end. “You see, I told this precious lady-friend of yours that if you figure out my plan, I’ll only kill one of you.” 

“I don’t know any more than what we’ve acted on already.” Tech confesses, but it’s not enough. “We have theories but-

“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Xirk claps his hands at Tech for praise when he begins to inch the conversation towards a subject he has been looking forward to. Tech keeps his focus on you, counting the seconds in his mind how long blood has been leaking out of your thigh and forming a puddle at your feet, challenged when Xirk tries to snap him out of it.

“You seem like a smart man. Smarter than most.” Xirk patronizes him, making Tech’s mental strengths feel like a crashing downfall right about now. “There must have been a reason you knew to eliminate my supplier. It brought me to wonder what these other theories are that you have and how close they might be to reality.” 

Xirk glares at Tech with an arm on your shoulder, the blade held in his fist pointed down at your heart. He knows exactly what he’s doing, provoking Tech on purpose, and yet he carries on with incredible nonchalance. “So, what else?”

Tech is usually level headed, but at this instance he is painstakingly struggling to focus. It is impossible to distract himself from your extensive injuries and the harmful impact they are currently having on your body, meanwhile the man barking orders at him makes for a very difficult endeavor. “I-I have theorized a possibility of planted explosives.”

“Warmer.” Xirk agrees, giving Tech credit where it is due. “Where?”

“The rest is just speculation.” Tech declares between shifting his attention back to you. “Don’t close your eyes. It’s going to be okay.”

“I asked you a question.” Xirk shifts his hold on the dagger to direct the blade at your jugular, the razor-sharp point centimeters away from your neck. “Don’t look at her.”

“Th-the capital?” Tech suggests the first thing that comes to mind, referencing their proximity to the very place itself. Xirk shakes his head when he can tell Tech is withholding considerations.

“Good guess, but no.” Xirk meticulously analyzes Tech at the same time he leans closer to you, his pungent breath making you more lightheaded than the blood loss. “C’mon. I can see it in your eyes that you’re playing dumb. You’re not the type.”

“I am not privy to other details!” Tech aggressively doubles down, unable to take any more of this. “I haven’t had the time to thoroughly analyze the information!”

“You’re not as smart as Tarkin says.” Xirk rolls his eyes as he straightens his posture. “I’m beginning to wonder why he’s so obsessed with this ragtag team of yours.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Tech is trying to keep you awake when you are beckoned by the welcoming absence of consciousness. “We’re fine. You’re fine.”

“What I have planned will make for many more casualties than I would accrue here on Coruscant.” He continues to boast, relaying his plans for expansive destruction while disclosing his distaste for Tarkin.

Tech calculates odds and options. If he does not wish to cause harm with fire, perhaps a poison? Toxic gas? A pathogen? As for numbers, only one place fits the bill. “Carrick station.”

“And what will I be doing at Carrick Station?” As he asks this question, Xirk presses on the open wound in your thigh, forcing you to emit a shrill screech as more blood pours out.

“A virus!” Tech wishes to put a stop to your afflictions, feeling culpable as if he drove the blade into you himself. “You’re going to unleash a virus to the public through the largest travel hub in the galaxy.”

“Huh.” Xirk lowers the blade away from your neck and eases up on the pressure he’s applying to your thigh. You heave many breaths, starved for air while fighting through the gag. “Maybe Tarkin is right to seek you out, even if you are just a clone.”

“I am going to kill you.” Tech can handle idle insults to his own character, but what this man is doing to you is unforgivable.

“Kill me, eh?” He laughs again, sharply hitting your ear with the increased pitch before pointing the blaster at the lower left quadrant of your hip. “No, what you’re going to do next is make a choice.”

Tech is gripping the seat of the chair so hard he can hear the rusty joints creak, but he remains still.

“Foil my plan here and now. Kill me like you said and save many innocent people.” Tech can sense the stakes of this game raise with each antagonizing second Xirk looks between you both. “Or… save only one.”

Xirk punctuates his words with a single shot discharged into your hip. Unfathomable pain overcomes you as it feels like you’re breathing fire. Shallow, shaky wheezing petrifies Tech when your intake of oxygen becomes lax. Your eyes close fast, revealing your undeniable drift from consciousness. He immediately turns the blaster on Tech while dragging you to the only exit where he disappears with you in tow, smearing the cupcake Tech dropped on the floor in his wake. Within an instant, he is left to process the shock of wanting to save you while grappling with letting the perp get away. 

Tech rushes out the door where he watched you pass through, limp and lifeless while still secured to the chair. You and Xirk are being lifted up on a platform of a customized light cruiser before ascending the atmosphere, the drive cone blasting exhaust back at him. Tech squints his eyes, trying to memorize as many important features of the cruiser in hopes to use that information to track you. 

“Plan thirty-three.” Tech relays over comms to his brothers, requesting immediate assistance. “I repeat. Plan thirty-three. Coordinates are transmitted.”

Within moments, they have congregated in the very spot where you were taken, the private and sacred aspect now completely gone. His mind is permanently tainted with your expressions of terror and distress.

“Here! Through this passage!” Wrecker announces, his booming voice reverberating about the area and reaching Tech’s ears. As his brothers make their approach, they see that he’s crestfallen, on his knees staring at the cupcake baked just for him. And here he thought today was going to be special. How foolish. “Tech? What happened?”

“It’s a bomb.” Tech reaches for the spent sparkler, its vibrant life gone in a flash. He pleads to himself that you don’t suffer the same fate. “He’s going to release a virus on Carrick station.”

“Who is?” Crosshair beckons Tech to explain further, unable to ignore the grim severity of the situation.

“Where did all this blood come from?” Echo begins to examine him for injuries, finding more of the same crimson staining his armor.

Hunter joins Echo but he takes his face in his hands, imploring him to look at into his eyes instead of the sparkler. “Tech, start from the beginning.”

“She asked me to meet her here.” Tech tells them slowly. “For my decanting day.”

“That explains the cupcake and marquee.” Crosshair is humbled by the kind gesture you made to one of his brothers, realizing just how close you have gotten.

“Aww… It looks like it would have tasted really good.” Wrecker mourns Tech not getting to try it; a sordid loss indeed.

“He was here, Hunter.” Tech is serious now, piquing their interest. “He inflicted such harm on her…”

“Who?” Hunter asks, but he’s sure he knows just the person Tech speaks of.

“The man from the briefing.” Tech utters bitterly. “Xirk Qarvet.”

“You said he’s planted bombs on Carrick Station?” Hunter reiterates what Tech had said before, touching up on the information. “Are they any different than the various devices we’ve recovered thus far?”

“The series of recent attacks haven’t claimed any lives though.” Echo disputes their brainstorming. “The areas have almost always been evacuated beforehand.”

“But we have his chemist.” Wrecker butts in with his two credits. “Doesn’t that mean he lost the only person who can make them?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Tech shakes his head in disagreement. “Xirk got all he needed before discarding him. He even thanked me for saving him money.”

“We’ll stop him before the bombs go off.” Hunter declares confidently. “We have to.”

“That may prove difficult.” Tech inches closer to letting them in on the one truly heartbreaking detail. “He gave me a choice.”

“A choice?” Crosshair asks, wondering what it could be.

“Save the galaxy.” Tech stops short, looking at the firework in his hands. “Or save her.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have us.” Hunter declares proudly, secure in himself and his troops that they can do both.

“Hunter, my intelligence is what put her in this position.” Tech reasons, feeling culpable for your abduction.

“Don’t think like that.” Hunter gets between Tech and the thoughts that plague him. “What you have is a gift, you hear me? Use it to find her.”

From the moment they all loaded up on the cruiser accompanied by the 501st, Tech was restless. He’s been constantly theorizing, hypothesizing, and analyzing all the intel he can to familiarize himself with Carrick Station. He is keeping a tab with the blueprints displayed at all times on the computer terminal embedded in his forearm bracer. Once they touch down, Rex sends troopers to every level in the station meanwhile Tech and his squad take the lead looking for you as well as the detonators meant to blow at a moment’s notice. Time is fleeting and they’ve come up empty.

They are ascending towards the cantina via lift when Tech’s comm device starts to blink. 

“Is that him?” Hunter asks when his ears pick up the notification chime.

Tech pulls his datapad out, looking for the new message. The blue glow shines on his helmet and goggles, bathing him in cool hues; a stark contrast to his fiery demeanor. “He’s using her comm channel.”

“What did he send?” Echo asks, peering over Tech’s shoulder to see what’s on the datapad.

“An attachment.” Tech’s finger hovers over the touch screen interface, trembling before he finally taps the button to play the clip. Everyone leans in close to watch.

“Consider this an official invitation to the party!” Xirk’s face appears after the footage calibrates, close up and warped from the perspective like he’s trapped in a fishbowl. “One last hurrah before it all falls apart.”

He steps out of frame and reveals you propped up against a wall on the floor. He walks towards you, ripping your face up harshly by the hair, your dress in disarray and not concealing your decency. You’re far too weak to notice, helpless as he does what he wants with you. 

As Tech watches, he keeps still like a stone, expressionless but inside he’s on the verge of implosion. 

“You better hurry.” He wiggles your head from side to side, streams of blood spilling from your freshly busted lips. “She doesn’t have much time, and neither does your precious Republic.”

Xirk lights up an identical handheld firework you used on Tech’s cupcake. The disgusting insult hits him like a freighter when Xirk cackles as he gets it going. He waves it like a tracer all over the room, swirling it around your head and letting embers rain down on you. 

The video ends and Tech cannot move. He’s jammed within the vice of executive dysfunction and uncontainable rage. The doors to the lift open, welcoming them to the heart of the station. Tech steps into the cantina, finds a place to sit and begins to spiral.

“Tech?” As the others follow, Echo makes an attempt to assess the emotional state of his brother.

“We haven’t found a single device.” Tech starts, heaving a dejected sigh. “Not one. And Rex has troopers everywhere.”

“We can’t stop now!” Wrecker is disheartened that Tech is beginning to lose hope in terminating not only an irreversible terrorist attack on every living breathing creature in the galaxy, but in saving you from becoming a martyr as a result. “We’re already here! They have to be somewhere!”

“There has to be something we’re missing.” Hunter speculates. “Are there any commonalities?”

“Each one was heavily improvised.” Tech shakes his head from side to side, defeated by his own conclusions. “It’s as if they were merely thrown together.”

“What if it’s more sophisticated?” Crosshair asks, thinking outside the box.

This helps direct Tech’s contemplations to a different outlet, scanning his surroundings in search of anything that would fit that box. “Sophisticated…”

His photographic memory displays one such device in the background sitting atop a shelf secured to the wall you were leaning against in the video. It is a cylindrical canister of steel, shining in the glaring overhead light beating down on you. Tech locates one of these cylinders sitting at the far edge of an empty booth in his line of sight.

He departs from the group without a word. They flock and follow him curiously when he plucks the cylinder off the counter as easily as one would select a drink. It looks like a simple oil diffuser, a spout at the top where a puff of aerosol could be emitted.

Tech twists the threads of it, pulling the sleek casing off the device to reveal a blinking detonator with a glass vial containing a clear purple substance. He disengages the timer, turning the detonator into a dud. The explosion wouldn’t have exceeded anything more than a balloon bursting, but it would have released the liquid in a vaporized state, dispersing the virus rapidly and thoroughly.

“That’s sophisticated, alright.” Wrecker is stunned to witness the weaponized ingenuity of the thing.

“How did you know that would be in there?” Echo marvels at his investigative skills.

“I saw one of these on a shelf in the attachment.” Tech replaces the top and hangs his head while looking at it, dreadfully reminded of your appearance in that holo-vid. “It wasn’t a coincidence. He wanted me to see it but staged a distraction.”

“I’ll relay to Rex what to look for.” Hunter declares, lifting his own comm to his mouth when Tech pulls it down so that he can explain in depth.

“Tell them it is critical they deactivate the timer while being careful not to break the vial inside.” The urgency in his eyes yearns for a different remedy when he is able to put all his focus back on you.

“Wrecker and I will handle this.” Hunter takes the cylinder in a noble fashion. “Go with Echo and Crosshair. Get her back. That’s an order.”

Their eyes meet during the exchange, and despite Hunter’s hidden beneath the veil of steel, the sharing of strengths is tangible. Tech gives him a nod and the group splits up. Tech is reminded of other aspects of the video, particularly the type of wall framing that you were pictured leaning against. That specific infrastructure distinction is typically seen in the supply levels. “Follow me.”

“Where to?” Echo asks while entering the very lift they just exited from.

“The Galactic Trade Market.”

Tech is pleased to find that his assumption is correct once again. The framing and wall panels line up perfectly with the images in his mind. Just as they make it ten paces into the floor, his comm begins to blink again.

“Another message?” Crosshair inquires, detecting the beeping himself.

“Her tracker.” Tech calibrates the controls and strengthens the signal. “It just activated.”

“Let’s follow it.” Echo enters a sprint through the bustling market, making their way through the condensed channels in pursuit of you. While following the blip on his forearm interface, Tech diligently leads them towards the back of the loading bay. The tracker’s beeps increase as they get closer and closer to their target, but all they see is an empty hangar.

You’re the one Tech depends on to keep him curious. You make things lively, but his mind keeps going back to that burnt out sparkler. He never thought that he would be the kind of person to seek out happiness. He thought all he needed was peace and a quiet mind, but there will be none of that if he can’t find you. Time is chasing after him, and he’s stricken with fear at the prospect of you being the one thing he doesn’t want to lose.

“It’ll take us forever to see what’s in all these crates.” Crosshair begins to weigh the workload in his head, driving a wedge in their rescue efforts but, Tech will not be so easily bested. He begins to look at their temperature control readers displayed at the exterior of each, noticing that one of them is blinking red while all the others are a stagnant green.

Just as he located the cylinder, he advances ahead to act on his own instincts. Though, something prevents him from executing his unspoken plans as he aimlessly begins to scan the area.

“What are you looking for?” Echo would like to know so that he could help, but Tech has always been this way. He’s not left clueless for long as Tech locates exactly what he was hoping to find; a steel crowbar lying on the floor almost hidden between the crates. Tech snatches it up and uses all his strength to drive the thin edge into the lip of the crate and the lid.

Echo and Crosshair watch as he fights with the object, grunting and groaning as the seal proves terribly resistant. Echo paces forward, skewering the crate with his scomp to help pry it open. The rotational force splits the two pieces apart with ease and Crosshair promptly steps in to shove it to the side. 

The very instance the lid falls with a loud thud, Tech at first believes he’s dreaming, but the accidental nudge from Echo and Crosshair puts his world in slow-motion. The shining strands of your hair become his light at the end of the tunnel as he practically dives into the crate aiming to fish you out.

“It’s her!” Echo cheers as he reaches for one of your arms with Crosshair hoisting you by the other.

“Watch her head.” Tech falls right back into control knowing he found you, operating like he would in any other major issue. “Lay her flat. I need to examine her injuries.”

Crosshair and Echo help stretch you out on the floor to assess your condition. Tech uses his scanner to see how severe the blaster wound and gash in your thigh are. The bleeding has been poorly stemmed with loose dressings and you’ve been slowly and continuously leaking the whole time. As soon as they pull the dirty and tattered wraps away from your hip and thigh, a surge of blood seeps out of you. Crosshair and Echo lift your leg up to create enough space for Tech to adhere a medpatch to the exposed skin before unrolling a sterile layer of gauze over the whole area. 

They set your limb back down, making sure to tend to the charred and festering wound on your hip. All three strenuously patch you up as best as they can with what they have, each wound packed and patched until you are taken for official surgery. Your skin is cold as ice and your complexion is fading into fainter hues; the rosiness in your cheeks all but smothered from your features. The bags under your closed eyes and shallow breath tell them that they quite literally arrived at the last minute.

“So, you’ve made your choice.” Xirk appears at the end of the corridor entrance to the hangar, clapping slowly. “I was beginning to second guess your capabilities. Seems you proved me wrong again.” 

Crosshair and Echo leap to their feet, blasters drawn and pointed at Xirk but they await Tech’s initiative. He operates like a drone, second nature in slipping his blaster pistol out of his rear holster. Tech lines up his shot while Xirk conceitedly smirks at him. He can sense another arrogant lecture coming on, so Tech opts to thwart its emergence before it even begins.

A rapid sequence of bolts pierce clean through Xirk’s mortal flesh. At the first shot Tech fired, Echo and Crosshair join in, unloading into every vital area of Xirk’s form. His face melts into an unrecognizably mess while not a single limb or section of his torso is left unscathed. It’s cold-blooded what they do, but it is of no consequence to them, wasting nothing on vengeance. Tech considers himself mighty inconvenienced already.

The trio lower their blasters after having vanquished the meager threat. They scoff upon realizing how insignificant he turned out to be. Xirk will not be remembered as the arbiter of destruction he hoped he would. Instead, his body will be found by the next worker taking their shift in this area of the hangar where it will be thrown into the very same incinerator his vials are currently being deposited into. Tech will consider this mission officially complete when he gets you out of here.

Immediately directing his attention to you, Tech kneels down to scoop you into his arms with one leg under your knees and the other supporting your shoulders so that he can carry you to safety, making sure to nestle your head right under his chin.

~~~

You’re propped up on a medical bed, the lights dim and hardly illuminating a minimalistic recovery room. A shrouded silhouette is parked at the right side of your peripheral. You groan when adjusting the way you’re lying, sore and stiff from being stagnant for so long. 

“Try not to move.” Tech tries to order you while he stands from the chair, but you’ll have none of it.

“I haven’t been moving for what feels like forever, and the first thing you tell me is to not do it?” You adjust yourself anyway, sighing in relief when you settle back into the covers.

“Hm.” Tech chuckles under his breath, and you wonder what’s so funny.

“Is there a joke I’m missing?” His smile is contagious, bringing one across your face as well.

“I should know better than to tell you what to do by now.” Tech sharply exhales another laugh, but it suddenly shifts to shuddered gasps as his happiness morphs into guilt. “I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

“Tech, what are you talking about?” You cannot understand why he would take the blame for something he had no control over. “You’re as much an innocent bystander as I am in all this.”

“I was careless with my research. I might as well have laid a trail right to us.” He argues remorsefully while letting his head sink between his shoulders, unable to look you in the eye. “To you…”

“He would have found a way to hurt us regardless.” You begin to reason with him, hoping to ease this blame. “Now please, stop this and look at me.”

Tech gathers the courage to lift his head, saved by your loving grace. Your eye is no longer swollen, but the bruise spanned across the surrounding area is darkened and discolored. You’re battered and beaten, and yet you’re the one lifting him out of his pit of despair.

“I’m here because of you.” You declare fervently. “Say it.”

Tech finds the words, repeating them with a bit less confidence than you did, but doing so all the same. “You’re here… because of me.” 

“That’s right.” You caress his face, stroking your thumbs against the crests of each cheek where his goggles rest. For a man who is always counting, considering the odds and leaving little to no room for ambiguity, he throws all caution to the wind when he lunges forward and kisses you. 

This isn’t real. You should be hurting, but you don’t feel a shred of discomfort when this close to him. His head in front of yours eclipses the dim light, obscuring you with his shadow. His lips are refined by the memory of precious exchanges like this in the past, breathing life into a flame you both thought was sure to die. His jaw moves in tandem with yours. Your arms are woven into his when he reaches for your neck, gently grasping you by the nape so that he can kiss you more passionately.

You’ve just been through Hell, and despite all odds, you’re going to recover perfectly. Though you are unaware of the deep-seated sadness from the sustained traumas, you know it should be there, but you’re far too exhausted to focus on anything but him. For now, he’s here, you’re alive and that is more than enough.