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It had been hours. Enough for a nights sleep-about 6 hours- a few REM cycles to recover off of. Not enough to really be okay, but enough to be serviceable. Enough to be able to safely go home. His nerves were shot from staying on vigil in case any should come on their hiding. He was just out of sight from her, nestled against some of the stacked furniture in a shadow so as to be able to put any enemies into a sleep from ambush. He'd gone through another six advil, but it wasn't helping his ribs or shoulder. It was just too soon to have needed to carry someone to their breaking thanks to that b*****d captain.

He needed to get his real medicine, and to get to work on assignments and classes. Thraen shifted his feet to push against a cupboard and used the pressure to leverage himself to getting up without as much need for using arms and moving ribs, crossed over to where he'd nested Medea in blankets and gently stroked the back of the fingers on his good hand down her cheek, "Medea? Are you alright? There's water. You should drink and hydrate. You're body won't recover as fast without it."

"Medea, please open your eyes." He hoped she woudl come around. If she was too exhausted, too far gone, the best thing for her woudl be the emergency room. But labeled as terrorists? He didn't think that was a safe option for senshi. If the choice was her life or death, though, he'd make it.

Thraen shifted, fully kneeling as he listed to the pleas for mercy. He could sympathize with the desire to just keep sleeping once one had achieved that blissful and rare state. But he had none. He shifted his hand away from her nuzzling to her shoulder, grasped the edge of the blankets and pulled them free like a magician performing a table-cloth trick. It used mostly wrist and elbow to get the motion right, but his ribs still flared and he caught his breath.

"Medea. I can't watch over you any longer. Wake up."

She...unpowered? Well, that was a plus for their safety at least. It could also serve as a lesson- she wasn't being attentive. Not enough anyway, and not as she should be if she was going to remain safe. Since she was persisting, he took the liberty to pat her down, find her henshin pen and take it.

He held it over her, disapproving, "Medea, you're very certain you can trust me. I appreciate that. But it isn't proving to me that you're going to be safe out there if you're just willing to sleep anywhere and power down in front of anyone."

"You're going to have a hard time powering up if you don't wake up and earn this back."

Thraen's usually more neutral-based expression turned darker- the lines beneath his eyes hollowing, the flame in them growing. His mouth torn into a severe line, flanked by frown columns, "I hope you are joking."

"These pens are priceless, a symbol and the key to unlocking our duty. You aren't just a girl, whoever you are right now and whatever name you bear. No more than I am just a man when I take off this ridiculous get up. It was given up, if ever it was in grasp, the moment we both took these pens up for the first time. Civilians must be sacred to us, and it is from the rights of those weak people- their lives and fears, hopes and dreams, that the duty of the strong is comprised. We are the strong. Or we'd damn well better be. You back out now, surrendering your pen like its a ******** cup of coffee, minding your selfish, petty happiness and every crime, death, and fate lost to a chaos agent is in part on your head. "

"I don't want to hear those words, or hear of those words from someone else, coming out of you again. I swear if you flippant-call this pen a souvenir ever again I will hunt you down and break it myself. " He'd wanted just for her to wake up. He'd wanted her to open her eyes, roll up, laugh and understand. Take the pen and promise to do her best not to sleep in powered form unless there was no choice. For her to promise to avoid the Negaverse except as the enemy. Instead he threw it at her like throwing stone at a martyr. "Live up to your potential."

He stood, straightening, the muscles of his jaw and neck working to ungrimace without much success, "This is a safe-house. I have sat vigil over your exhaustion for hours, and now I need to get medicine. You can stay here if you want, go back to sleep if you want, in civilian form. You can come here in the future, if you need. I keep it stocked with emergency rations and medical supplies, and a place to sleep. But do not stay powered up and advertising that this is a senshi bat-cave."

"The fairytale is long over, Medea. You're walking in the nightmare now and there only forward, alone or fate-willing with friends by your side, or be buried."

It was always a matter of time until the tears came. They always did. Even in elementary school, he would try to make a friend, whatever the new kid was that just moved to the school- and at most a month on he'd have made them cry.

But they never understood- It was for their own good. It was for everyone's good. There was a reason to have logic and order, to follow the Rule, whatever that happened to be for e proscribed situation. Emotions were inconstant, fickle and worst of all they were subjective. They didn't rely on truth, they relied on personal preferences and skewed interpretation. Everyone had different thresholds of withstanding different pressures. Rule and Order mitigated that. It was always clear what and how much was expected.

And Medea had failed that. And he would not forget it. He felt sorry for her, sorry to have made a sweet girl, so plain an innocent, cry. He was sad to have to be the hard one. But it did have to be done. "Medea, if crying now means no one is crying over your body later, then its a toll we need to be willing to pay. "

"Your apology is well given. It is accepted. You recognize. You'll do better. I know you will." He put his good arm around her shoulders. "Your pen is sacred. You'll uphold your duty. You can use this place for safety. Don't just be powered if your aren't prepared. You understand these things?"

and not Ruthie Thraen ignored the growing dampness of the opera glove contraption on his arm. Having tears on ones face was frustrating, so it may as well be his sleeve as it was any other. Her name is Ruthie.

"If I didn't mind you, then I wouldn't get so angry. " He took a long breath, kept shallow for benefit of his ribs. It made it sound wheezy. "I care for both Ruthie and Medea. "

"I don't mind acting as an advisor, as a conscience, or as an enforcer. It isn't a matter of good or bad, it's just doing what must be done. Lean on me all you need Ruthie, but understand I'm going to push you. To be honest, I can't help that. It's...just part of who I am. It's hard, but I try to keep useful. "

He let a moment of quiet and relative peace stay there after her last question, lifting his bad arm enough to brush some of her mane of hair back from her face. "There's hairbands if you want one. I know the trouble when I'm not in uniform and there's no flowers keeping it up like a Gibson girl."

"I need to get home. I haven't slept in 24 hours, eaten in twelve, no had real medicine in twelve- I'm on painkillers and antibiotics. So that is what I need to do. As I said, you're welcome to stay here a while if you want or need. I stop by once a week to restock and clean it. If I haven't gotten destroyed by some youma or wraith, or agent, anyway."

Thraen gave a slow, considering nod, "I should and intend to rest. At least as long as I can spare. "

"Take out your phone and scan me as I showed you last night?"
"That was you can call me at need. I don't know how much help I'll ever be, but I'll try. If you have questions, if you're in trouble, if you need a partner to walk the city with. "

"Once you have that, I'll feel alright heading out to get some rest."