"Just not both," he almost grunts, mouth moving against the fold of Casey's scrubs. He wasn't asleep, not yet, but he was going to be soon. His body was either happy enough with its current circumstances, or too worn down to care, but he thinks it might be the former. When Casey does settle in, when he stops chasing the meaning of things, he's calm and easy.

"Is survival what you're trying for," he finds himself asking, chasing meanings on his own way down, catching threads to tie together: "Is that what you don't want people to make something more than?"

Is that why you leave, he doesn't add. It's pointless: no one here has any control over leaving, and if they did, Kira would be the first to try. Just because Casey's world sounded awful didn't mean there was nothing there he might want to get back to.