From the strange world of “Other Ashdown” … to the familiar confines of the Library, tucked safely within the front doors. For a jarring moment he waited to hear the whispers, the screams… but he heard the sound of books being collected from the book drop, saw the small collection of used books that they had out for sale, well loved and some still covered in plastic. He was still…saturated, his shoes squishing as he shifted from side to side, socks chafing at his ankles. Mogget shifted inside his Hoodie and popped his head out for a moment, twisting his thin neck to gaze upward at his human with a plaintive mew.

It was that mew that grounded him, brought him back to realizing that this was –real-, that he was home… HOME and away from all the madness and with a little LUCK he wouldn’t run into Sunny any time again soon, but…

Oh… oh yes… Jeremiah had said he’d been gone for… days.

He was so not ready to face –anyone- who might have questions about that, about what had happened. Part of him wanted to dive forward into the safety and sanctuary of the Library, even in other Ashdown, as strange as the books were they were still leather binding paper and the stories contained within. They were, in so much as that, comforting.

His hands clenched and unclenched as he glanced towards the door to the outside, and then back to the familiar confines of the library, the comforting smell of books and… the soft shift from one foot to another brought the damp nature of his clothes back to the foreground of his thoughts.

Not… a good idea to interact with books right now.

“S’okay Mog, It’s ok.. lets go…. Let’s go back to our room and… figure out where we’re going fro here.” His shoulders sagged as he murmured the last words, distracted by the embers of frustration that still prickled in his belly like stinging bees.

The deal, the ‘spirit’ of the deal that he really didn’t see how far that could stretch. The result seemed, well, a forgone conclusion, and that was something he needed time to cope with.

He pulled the zipper on his hoodie higher to help conceal the cat, familiar about town for the fact he’d love almost anyone, unfortunately –including- Sunny, and pushed his way out the front door.

He felt more than a little like some fugitive from justice, but really, he was a fugitive from questions. Maybe that should give him more empathy with the fact that they had a strange ‘other’ world that no one was willing, or in some cases ABLE to give answers for, and that was going to kill the closest thing he had to a Father, or Fathers, who …frankly needed to live long enough to get their s**t together.

Hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket to give the cat support in his resting spot he made off down the familiar, if paper strewn streets towards the place he considered more ‘home’ than his mother’s house to gather a few things.

After that, after that honestly was up in the air, and it was a question for himself that, he couldn’t answer. Maybe non-answers were just contagious.