It looked like it was bloody delicious but the actual eating of it was like swallowing saw dust. That’s how Cameron felt about Tobe. About everyone. And the part of him that should be freaking out just didn’t care enough to. But at least he was aware that he was supposed to be freaking out. That was something. Right? The room was huge but cozy, decorated in warm, masculine colors, the king-sized bed in the corner just begging him to drop down on it and surrender to a long and dreamless sleep. Cameron hadn’t felt this exhausted in a long time. The door had closed behind Alain five minutes ago and still Cameron hadn’t moved. It was taking some time for the reality of what had happened to him to sink in. Or… maybe, he really didn’t care. Tobe had done all the talking when the Princeps and the others had bundled them into a van. As his arm healed over from the cut and his lungs started working properly again, the trip to Cyrus’ mansion had seemed to take forever. Tobe had been pretty banged up and he knew from his memories that he should have been pissed off, worried, anxious, ready to kill… Tobe meant a lot to soulful Cameron.
