Rhys was Ploutonion, Knight of Saturn.
More accurately, Rhys was Ploutonion, Page of Saturn.
It had been more than strange, seeing his friend from England suddenly in Destiny City, powered up and being menaced by the Lieutenant with the strange tattoos and fluffy dark hair. Even more strange had been the sensation of being energy drained to the point where the blond had remained on his feet mostly through an application of will and for the love of spite. Offering Aegir in trade for Ploutonion had been a no-brainer, though he’d not expected to be drained like that…the officer had been sharp enough to not trust just his word.
Thankfully, he and Plou had managed to get away unhurt (save for heavy exhaustion and a spitty star-seed) - and Colin had taken his friend back to his apartment after they'd both caught their breath a bit. It had taken some doing to get from the concrete to the second floor of the remodeled Victorian he’d been sharing with Björn and Nischal (was that boy even alive? Colin asked himself that far too often to be healthy...and even though both he and his lover had often tried to include their youthful roommate in movie nights, dinners, and the like...he'd just mostly hidden away in his room. They rarely knew if he was even there or not!)
Once safely tucked away inside the apartment - he really should get a move on finding a new place to live, with Björn gone, it was too painful to stay there - Colin and Rhys barely made the effort to put pajamas on before falling into their respective 'beds'. The blond in the big bed he'd shared with Björn and Rhys on a palette set up on the floor of his room - it would have been the couch, but Colin realized he didn't know how having one's starseed yanked might affect a person (beyond exhausting them - or killing them, if it were removed for long enough), and he didn't want to take the chance of his friend needing help but being too weak to come get him.
So the floor it would be.
Colin might have shared his bed with Rhys, but it would have felt...wrong. Even if he'd done so before and did not like sleeping alone, he just couldn't bring himself to offer use of the bed. Rhys, bless him, was too tired to care and just wanted to face-plant into a pillow as soon as possible.
So strange...I'd think it was something in the water here, but he's not from Destiny City....
Sleep came quickly for them both; Rhys softly snoring even as Colin had slipped between the sheets and despite the fact that his mind bounced about with all sorts of questions - like why his friend was in Destiny City, how it was that so many people he knew were also powered, and what the hell they were going to do about this weirdness - the blond was snoring himself just moments after his head hit the pillow.
And the next morning, when they were slightly less than horrifically exhausted and/or immediately traumatized from the fateful encounter with Umber, Colin would serve omelettes and toast; he and Rhys would talk a bit over breakfast before his friend insisted that he call in to work. As exhausted as he still was after having been drained so thoroughly, Colin really was in no shape to spend the morning at practice - especially not if he planned to perform in the show that night. Rhys had been insistent, though the danseur had repeatedly tried to persuade him that he was fine.
It proved to be a good idea, when all was said and done. Calling off allowed him more time to recoup, gave them time to play catch-up from the last time they'd seen each other, as well as offered Rhys the benefit of hearing Colin try to explain what being powered meant for him (though he had to admit that he knew next to nothing about Knights and could offer only the reality of the Senshi side of things).
His friend was surprisingly accepting of the story of magical talking aliens in the shape of house cats, weird magical monsters that turned to dust when you’d kicked their a** enough, and the fact that Destiny City was a war zone between Order and Chaos (among other things). There was a lot to cover, even without Colin knowing what was relevant to a Knight, but the bit he’d gotten reading the Primer did help - at least a small bit. He could at least explain that Ploutonion’s powers came from his ‘Wonder’ - whatever the hell that was (or meant) - and how important the guardian cats were.
It was a lot to cover, but Colin didn’t mind and Rhys needed to know about these sorts of things, no matter if the danseur didn’t really feel up to playing Twenty Questions. It was Important. Besides, contemplating the odd events of their reintroduction kept his mind busy enough that he couldn't dwell on how empty the apartment felt without the strongman around, company or no.
Eventually he’d see his friend out, having gotten his number so they could keep in touch and promising to get together again soon - under better circumstances - and then Colin would set an alarm on his phone and lay back down for a nap, so bone tired he didn’t get to do dwell on how much he missed Björn before falling asleep.
Work that night would be difficult, but he'd manage. He always did. And he wouldn't even seem to be heartbroken - a bit subdued, yes, but not gutted and still reeling. Definitely not empty as he actually felt. In the professional ballet world, one did not show weakness if one wanted to survive - promotions and parts often came at the cost of another’s misfortune. There were none that held onto the fantasy that they were innocent - even the meanest member of the corps de ballet had been disabused of the notion that he or she had made it there purely by their own talent, without causing another person to be overlooked or rejected.
That was just not how things went.
So he’d perform as well as he could that night, show all the right faces and pretend things were totally fine. Questions about Colin’s home life would be deflected or he’d flat out lie if the inquisitive party wouldn’t back away. And it worked well enough that the danseur got away with it and completed his job without breaking down or giving the sharks any indication that he was bleeding in the proverbial water.
That night, he did not bother with patrolling. He was too tired, his mind too full of questions that may never find answers, and the trouble Colin had keeping his eyes open said plainly that despite any bad dreams he might have, he would at least be able to fall asleep for a time.
As he drifted off, a dangerous thought flit through his mind: Maybe I should always be this tired…at least then I can get some sleep.
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