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"It's not locked." He called out from where he was seated, in the middle of a mess of paper and pen. Ink spotted his fingertips just as much as it did the sheet of parchment, streaks and lines, jumbled images and thoughts.

The desk was the only part of the moon trainee's room that actually looked as though it belonged to him currently; a mess in the middle of blank, sterile white walls and sheets. It was almost as if he had brought the infirmary back to the dormitory with him, finding it much easier to lose himself that way than anything else. There were no frightening flashes to find in posters, no way an insect could hide behind clutter that wasn't there. The white was safe, but it was hardly him.

"Hm... Oh? Busy?" His brow lofted slightly as he glanced up from the paper he had been starting so intently at that he hadn't looked away until he had heard the sun trainee's voice. He was peering over the rim of black plastic frames that had slid down on his nose enough that he would soon have to either push them up or let them fall off, the lenses doing little to hide the dark circles under his eyes.

The glasses were hardly the only difference, however. His head looked... Smaller, was it? Or maybe it was just the difference in the volume of his hair. He still hadn't quite figured that out himself, but it had been necessary to remove the dreads after the events of the Sahara and of his two options he had opted for the less drastic but more painstaking route of asking someone to assist him with coming them out. It had been a part of his recovery that he hadn't quite recovered from yet, his hair feeling considerably lighter and strange although still pulled back, this time into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck.

"Come in."

"No, I'm not busy, I just..." He held the papers out to Inoke in a manner similar to how one might envision a mad scientist in a movie, waiting until the other hand taken hold of them before standing, making another gesture for the sun trainee to take his chair as he made his way over to shut the door.

The papers that he had handed over to the other were filled with nonsense. One word here or there, dark angry lines and the occasional something standing out of them; eyes in the darkness, thousands of legs in the lines. It was the sort of thing he had been turning to when he found himself unable to sleep now without the sedatives that had kept him under in the infirmary long enough for the majority of his injuries to heal.

"Sorry. It's crazy... Do you want something to drink? Make yourself comfortable."

"Makes me feel a little bit like Johnny Depp's Ichabod Crane, to be honest." He managed to crack a small smile at that, but it didn't quite make it to his eyes leaving more of a haunted look behind than anything else.

"I don't know if I've got it in me to knock anyone's teeth in right now..." Instead of answering the question about the water he opened the chest at the end of his bed, drawing a plastic bottle out of the dwindling package he had left, holding it out to the other young man. "Could go for being knocked out, though. Bet the sleep would be nice..."

"Between the dehydration and the demolition, I can't remember a lot of it. Bits and pieces, though; enough to be terrified." He made a gesture to the drawings before turning his chair around so that he could straddle it, crossing his arms to rest them on the back of the chair lightly. Inky fingers left smudges behind on the wood, just as they had left small traces behind on the bottle of water.

"It's like losing track of everything except for instinct; survival. I haven't felt that way... For a really long time."

"Considering what was under our skin, I don't think they had a choice. They might have warned us, but I don't think it would have made things any easier..." After all, what if it hadn't worked? What if they had died anyways? Wasn't it all just part of the price they payed upon signing up to be a part of the great Deus Ex Machina?

"If you came looking for a sparring partner I don't know how much good I would be to you, but I can try... Or if you just need to talk." Talk. His own mouth went dry just thinking about it, eyes drifting down to the water threatening to splash up and out of the bottle as Inoke's grasp tightened on the plastic. His tongue flicked over his lips as he tried not to think of how cracked they had been, how parched he had been... How precious a bottle of clean water would have been as they had all waited together in the quarantine zone to face their fates...

He swallowed hard before glancing up, brown eyes dark as they met the other man's gaze. "We all deal with things in our own way, man."

He held his hand up to halt Inoke from getting too far, shaking his head slowly at the offered bottle of water before gesturing for him to sit back down. He didn't seem as though he would take 'no' for an answer, although he didn't seem as though he quite had the strength to force him to stay either.

"I think... If they had a choice to act in another manner, they would have. I don't know what those things were, what they could have done to us, but they were inside." His words were spoken with complete revulsion and it was obvious that the afterthought left him sick, tempted to gag. "What better way to purge? To cleanse? It didn't scar." Not physically, at least.

"Stay."