[He can't stay still for too long, he can't sit and wait for his body to feel completely renewed and rested before he's out trawling the streets again, looking for something to keep his mind occupied with. He's not so departed from being injured that he doesn't still have the light bandage wrapped across his middle, to keep himself from straining muscle that might pull at the offending area. Even so, none of this stops Markus from visiting his usual haunts — artist as he is, this often entails poking his head into a local gallery to see if any volunteer work could be arranged.

They don’t need an extra pair of helping hands today (disappointingly, which means Markus must fill his daytime hours with some other endeavor), and just as he’s turning away from speaking to one of the gallery managers, a familiar voice pulls his attention in a different direction.]

Hey.

[Light, soft-spoken, the usual easy grin in greeting. He steps forward, taking a moment to eye her state: better than before, but certainly still sporting the crutches and a less cumbersome cast.]

I'm feeling a lot better than we last met. I’m even cognizant enough to catch whatever you happen to throw at me.

[He jests, it’s all in good humor. But seriously don’t throw anything at him this time.]

You're looking more energetic, too.