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Zeke's protest following the upward crawl of those long fingered hands was at least small, and he certainly didn't mind the eager brush of teeth against his lips as arms looped tightly around his neck. It brought an answering nibble, the brush of his tongue against Ever's lower lip as he dropped his hand from soft hair back to the other man's waist. There he found the edge of his shirt, and the tips of his fingers slipped beneath, tracing in teasing lines over the elastic line at the top of his boxers before curling into the hem of layered shirts and lifting.

It was almost automatic, normal, but in that moment thoughtless. Zeke wasn't thinking as he drew shirts up and over Ever's head. Not about injury, and what scars it might have left. Not about the weight the Life had lost over the last few weeks. Not about anything, really, except for how good it felt to have Eve there again. Lost in the feel of knees squeezing around his waist, in arms looped around his neck, and lips working eagerly beneath his own.

"Wha-" Zeke froze as Ever drew away, eye's snapping open to blink up at him as he pulled the shirts from the Mist's hands and struggled to untangle them. It hit, then, belatedly, and a breath was drawn in through teeth like a wince as shoulders sagged and hands hovering at the taller man's sides, not entirely sure what to do. "Ever."

He'd seen the wound in the first days, when it was red and angry and bleeding, between bandage changes, before Ever had woken up. And he saw it now, healed, a thick, pinkish purple line that cut low across his abdomen and veered horizontal over his right hip. A quick glimpse before he brought hazel eyes up to Ever's face.

Zeke remembered Ever's suggestion, about how best to handle s**t when the Life was off, but he really doubted that'd work this time.

Letting out the breath he'd held, Zeke caught Ever's arms, tried to stop his fumbling, before just grabbing the folded up blanket at the foot of his bed and pulling it around the man on his lap. He didn't know what to say, wasn't sure what to do, but he did loop his arms back around him, preemptively, keeping him where he was, because Zeke didn't want him bolting for the door.

Zeke didn't like this. Not just because he was awful in these sorts of situations, but because there was something about this that pulled at things in his chest, and not in any enjoyable way. He hesitated to say it hurt, because as far as he knew he lacked that level of empathy, but it certainly bothered him to see Ever slump like that, defeated.

So one hand slid upward, a warm press against the back of the blonde's neck. The other sank lower, and a firm tug pulled him in closer. "You almost died," he answered softly, turning his head so the edge of his jaw touched pale curls. "That's gotta ******** with you a bit."

It was why Zeke had given him all the distance he'd wanted, hadn't pushed, hadn't tried anything. It wasn't as if he had any clue as to the sort of mental strain Ever had been going through, but he couldn't imagine it had been easy.

There was something though, some perverse satisfaction, that came from finally being let back in, being, perhaps, useful again in some small way. Likely he should have felt guilty about this, but that was a range of emotion he had limited access to, at best. To his credit, Zeke's tone lacked any sort of obvious disappointment for the abrupt change in what was happening. He sounded neutral, sympathetic maybe, as much as he was able, without falling into the realm of pitying.

Zeke's face had fallen into grim lines, not that Ever would see, not with his head down as it was. He had only the vaguest knowledge of the tower, it was something that had happened before he'd awoken, and he'd not quite gotten that far in his extended research yet.

"This is different." Not quite a question. "Whatever happened in the tower, it didn't leave any physical mark." Zeke knew Ever's body, every inch, and there was nothing to suggest anything bad had befallen him before now. Obviously that wasn't the case -- He remembered the haunted look in dark eyes, the lack of focus, the lack of pigment in pale skin. Shaking his head, Zeke turned, pale eyes dropping to the top of Ever's head.

At least this time the Mist was less rigid, less awkward. No more knowledgeable with this sort of thing, but better equipped to handle it, at least.

"This time you had a long recovery, a scar. The experience wasn't over just because you were out of the haunted house." He didn't think he needed to elaborate. Doubtless, Ever remembered his long stay in the infirmary, the stitches, the pain, the nausea. It made sense the whole ordeal would stick with him.

Nothing more was said after that, and as Ever sat quietly, Zeke did the same, just as still, though not quite as tense as he might have been once upon a time.

Then Ever was lifting his head, tense again, trying to slip away, and the hand at the small of his back pressed as the one at his nap slid lower. It was an automatic reaction, and it was paired with a dip of brows as the Life mentioned leaving.

"Wait." He didn't want him to leave. Even if the mood was ruined, even if sex wasn't on the table for the evening, Zeke didn't want him to leave.

When Ever froze the Mist let out a breath, hands relaxing just a touch against his back, but certainly not letting go. In truth, he wasn't sure what to do either, but apparently letting him walk out of his room wasn't an option.

Slowly he loosed his hold, hands drifting up, and when he reached Ever's shoulders he slid fingers down along his jaw to tuck beneath his chin, drawing his head up, if the other man let him.

He noticed, of course, that telltale brightness in dark eyes -- he noticed damn near everything -- but he didn't aknowledge it. Instead he'd nod, and he'd brush Ever's hair out of his eyes, smoothing fingers back through messy curls before leaning in and laying a light kiss against one temple.

"I've got pants you can wear, if you want them." Zeke bent to the side, reaching for his bag to drag it closer so he could dig in the side pocket. When he straightened up he gently tugged the tangle of shirts from Ever's hands and replaced it with the pack and a half of cigarettes he'd gotten from Taym. "You were out, right?" He lifted his brows, lips twitching, as he pulled one shirt free of the other and offered the lighter of the two back, fairly certain Ever would want it.

And just like that, ten dollars didn't seem quite as steep anymore, not even for a single pack. Zeke watched As the blonde sprawled out and pulled out a cigarette to tuck it between his lips, and as the click of the lighter filled the room he was leaning over to get his boots off. They were placed off to the side, and the bag he'd come in with was leaned against him after he pulled out a book to set on the bedside table. His phone was set beside it.

The answer, distracted though it may be, had Zeke rising to his feet so he could grab a pair of plaid pajama pants from one of his drawers, and he returned with them in hand, sinking down to claim the stretch of bed beside the Life. Blankets were moved, pushed down near their legs, and Zeke lay back, but not without grabbing the cup off the nightstand that had been designated for ash so he could hand it off to Ever. The quiet welling up around them didn't feel strained like it had when Ever had initially flinched, and seemed, at least to Zeke, closer to normal than it had in weeks.

"12 hours of sleep, huh?" He yawned, despite it probably being no later than 8, but infirmary shifts took it out of him. "I think we can manage that, or ge pretty close."