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It had played out, somehow, that Ed had gone almost the entirety of the quest without seeing the few other chosen he was actually familiar with. There had been a very brief encounter with Asher, the both of them rushing out into the snow to find a few survivors that had gotten lost, but after that...nothing. He didn't see Mercy at all, and if he was closer to his roommate, that would have been more concerning at the time.

Upon arriving back at the compound it'd become clear that she had made it back in one piece as well, and that was a bit of a relief. They weren't close(yet), but he liked her alright, and she wasn't a bad roommate.

Who he didn't see, and who he had actually gotten to know better than anyone else so far, was Asher. A little asking around, and he had learned that the dark haired man had been injured, and that he was holed up in the Hermes dorms. A little more digging, and he was able to figure out which dorm was Asher's.

He knocked, not entirely sure what he was going to say. Ah well. Too late to turn back now.

The grumpy face was not entirely unexpected, and Edward countered with neutral boarding on concern, a hint of darkness shadowing his eyes suggesting he wasn't quiet as well off as he appeared. There was a rather large lump hidden under his hair near the back of his head, and a number of bruises that only made an appearance when his shirt was off. What might have normally been visible on his arms seemed masked by the dark wash of ink from his tattoos. He looked relatively untouched, but he hadn't made it home without his own war wounds.

Assuming the shorter man meant where had he been since they'd parted ways after the rescue mission, and not just since they had gotten back, Ed's answered encompassed all of it. "Took a chunk of ice in the back of the head when the speakers went off. Was out until the giant bird was made an appearance."

He nodded at the peak of bandages under Asher's shirt. "What happened?"

This time, when Asher's shirt crept up, Ed's gaze stayed on the bandage and the injury it was hiding. Now was, probably, not the best time to be hitting on the smaller man. At least not overtly. Besides, his head still hurt.

"Ouch. How bad was it?" Feather sounded so benignly harmless, but these hadn't been normal. Like sharp, serrated daggers. If it'd been bad enough that Asher had had to keep it stabilized until they'd gotten back, then he'd gotten lucky.

Asher moved, more or less inviting Edward in, and he took it, heading for the desk so he could lean a hip against it, arms crossing loosely over his chest as he glanced around at the interior of the room. It was familiar, set up wise, but that was about it. Pale eyes lingered on the half packed bag for a moment before Asher was holding out a metal feather for him.

"Christ." He took it, turning it in his hands, brows arching. Asher had definitely gotten lucky. Or maybe not as much as it seemed, considering their additional protection from their deities.

"You were running around in the thick of it with something the size of your arm sticking out of your side?" Again, that hint of concern, brows dipping.

"Ah." Well that made a little more sense, at least. Still, it sounded like it had been a mother of an injury. Something that seemed confirmed, at least in his mind, by the wince and the hand pressing into Asher's side. Ed shifted, a step towards the bed before he'd even realized he was doing it.

Unsure how to cover the action, he just stood there, though with the toss of the shirt into the bag, it at least provided a distraction. "Going somewhere?"

Ah right, they could travel now. He hadn't so much forgotten that, as just not really thought about itmuch. Unsure if he really had much desire to head back himself, unless it was just to grab some of his things. He wasn't really attached to the city he'd left behind. "So which city would that be?"

He caught that glint, the small bit of the former Asher peaking through, and he rolled his eyes,lips twitching in a small smirk. "Definitely too small. Though you might fit." The smile broadened a touch. "If you're really flexible, anyways."

Another small, involuntary movement as Asher stood, and again he stopped before completing it. This time, however, it didn't seem as though he was even aware of it, features still relaxed and amused, grin broadening.

"New York?" Tone was just sincere enough to making it impossible to tell if he was serious or not. Being from Seatle, he didn't have much riding on the great pizza debate between New York style, or Chicago. He figured he had a fifty/fifty of guessing correctly, and if not? Well, teasing Asher was entertaining.

Pale brows rose. "About pizza? God no." Not with Asher. Not with anyone from New York or Chicago. He was, according to an old friend back home who'd grown up in the big apple, a heathen when it came to pizza. He liked it both ways, and apparently that was incorrect.

At this point it was getting hard to ignore the fact that he was just standing in the middle of the room, and going back to the desk seemed a little awkward. Instead he took the few steps needed to sink down on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on this thighs, hands dangling between his knees. "Going to be gone long?"