As long as Jae can cling to the barest thread of his superficial front, he's okay. He's probably on his nine millionth wind by now, but he can still force himself to hide any emotional significance behind My hair looks bad. All shall be well.

(Repression: fun for the whole family.)

He blinks at Sunny, not confused but accepting, like yeah actually you still are kind of cute right now, and that's not weird. How he's managing to walk right now is a mystery. A few times he does seem like he might say something, but he keeps quiet as he can feel the beginnings of nausea threaten his insides. A few surreal moments of silence later (it really is a nice morning), Jae seems to remember something, and - holy shit, his CiD made it, trapped in the breast pocket of his longsuffering jacket. He turns the thing on and by some miracle, it's still operational. But the network is a wasteland of uselessness, and the citywide one is Militia updates only - just as helpful.

"Have you been by yourself this whole time?"