Robbie’s lost that dead inside look, replaced by a haunted one. She reaches for his wrist instead, on the floor as they gather themselves. Their surroundings are blessedly normal in comparison to the various hell dimensions. It’s quiet, the dark throwing her off after that last place. Somewhere between two and three a.m., the giant clock face on the wall reads. It’s a Sunday and she has Robbie back, and she’s supposed to be back on base hours back.
The Ghost Rider was in charge, this much she can tell as he flexes his hands within hers. Like they’re getting used to being in the present, reminiscent of when Andrew got HIVE out of her. The feeling of your body not being your own, doing things you remember startling clear. His eyes lose the hardness as he looks down at her hand just as she gets herself ready to stand.
It hovers between them like protective shielding that he brushes with his fingertips. Instead, he watches everything around him as he gets reoriented to this time, to this earth.