[ A number of other questions line up single-file in his mind: where are you from, what do you do that makes you so comfortable with moments like this one, do you know what the fuck's going on, but they're all driven from his mind the second pale fingers brush more tanned skin. There's little reason for him to pick that out as the root cause of what happens next, nor to explain away the wave of nauseating emotions he doesn't have time for -- self-loathing, apathy, distant concern, mourning -- as being Hei's. All he knows is that his throat's suddenly tight and that there's a blue light washing over his features, almost immediately taking his first uneasy step back.

Hei's cut-off command doesn't even register for a moment, hardly needing the extra motivation to regain his own bearings. What the hell...? ]

... drop all of it, the cherry bombs and the knife and whatever else you've got that's not the clothes on your back. You can put it in a nice pile over here, and then maybe you can give me your best theories on what the fuck just happened.

[ If he hadn't seen Hei's chest glow too he wouldn't even mention it, ready to move on and process this later. ]