INBOX

[feintofhart]

[ prettification to come! ]

Comments

[nullificates]

hello mister drug dealer in the making, or presently!

wanna make a little trade? no need to answer!!! meet me in lupin in 20, or ignore me profusely! bring samples if yes, don't be a bad sport!

[feintofhart]

That's apothecarist to you! Everything I'm doing is strictly above board, I'll have you know.

But considering your wording, I assume it's not lavender tea you're looking for.

video

[coordinatroll]

[ The video opens to Mitama, though just like in her recent post, she's wearing her "disguise". She's here on an important business, after all. ]

Ho, ho, ho! Thank you for joining our Secret Santa event~ It's time to find out what ─ or rather who ─ your assignment as Santa's Little Helper for this year is! Drumroll, please...

[ She makes a pause for a dramatic effect, her hand slipping into a Santa hat she's holding and pulling out a small piece of paper with a name on it. ]

It's none other than... Ange Ushiromiya, the aloof yet gentle demon whisperer!

Remember, you should present your assignee with a gift of your choice until December 25th! Good luck, and remember: your main task is to spread joy, happiness and the spirit of Christmas cheer!

Miss Santa Coordinator, out!

Secret Santa

[strength_of_will]

[ Sitting on Claude's doorstep early on what should be Christmas Eve is a flat box neatly wrapped in brown paper and string with an envelope tucked securely beneath the knot. On the envelope's face is Claude's name, and inside is a letter: ]

I'm not sure if you celebrate the occasion but I hope that this gift will serve you well. If you say 'Lumen', the dagger's blade will light up for as long as you need it to.

- William

[ Inside the box is a simple, multi-purpose dagger that seems unremarkable at first glance. What Claude can't see is that the Word 'lumen' is engraved beneath the leather-wrapped grip in order to facilitate the magic.

...Yeah, he knows he's supposed to 'spread cheer and joy' but given their previous conversation he thinks Claude may appreciate something useful more. ]

[feintofhart]

[ Days later, William will receive something in return -- two tins of tea, one herbal and one caffeinated, and a note thanking him for the all too generous present, as well as a promise that he'll use it well. ]

action for pre-party time

[earnedmystripes]

[Kotetsu is very easy to voluntell to help out with various things, honestly, especially considering he is naturally predisposed to being A Helper. So on one afternoon, he's perched on the top of a ladder, hammering in some nails for repairs to a roof when one of them slips from his fingers, and in trying to reach for it ... unbalances the ladder .....

Look out below...!! It's raining yelling old men!]

[feintofhart]

[ While Kotetsu is atop a ladder, working on repairs, Claude is just beneath him peering through a shop window and tapping his chin, mulling over the price of more arrows. He's about to march on in and see if he can sweeten the deal a little when he hears a shout from above and instinctively stumbles backwards to see where it's coming from -- only to see a man plummet straight down towards him. ]

Whoa -- I've got you!

[ Despite how much more slender he tends to look underneath swaths of fabric and fancy linens, he's stronger than he looks; he shoots his arms out to catch the man, and nobody is more surprised than Claude when he actually succeeds. Not without a price, his biceps immediately loudly protesting at the sort of weight they don't believe the likes of him were meant to carry. ]

Oh god, [ he wheezes, knees buckling and forearms dropping as his impressive catch soon begins to sink to the ground like someone had kicked the legs out from underneath him. His voice is strangled with the effort. ] Dimitri made this look so easy. Please get off.

Post-auction DRAGON DATE

[drugsnotclubs]

[ 'Get involved in various activities, with various people, without hesitation.' That had been the edict at his sentencing, and apparently he'd interpreted it to mean "Immediately slam down a bid on the date up for auction that involves a guy who seems alright, but more importantly: his pet dragon."

Which is, of course, what brings him here: walking into the apothecary close to the time to close. Hopefully they don't have to take the 'date' part too literally. He doesn't mind hanging out with the guy and getting some coffee or something with him and a giant lizard, but he's not sure how good he'd be at pretending like he has any romantic skill whatsoever.

The apothecary is a mass of scents, growing different sorts of distinct the closer you get to certain hanging or dried herbs or concoctions. When he spots Claude, he lifts a hand in a casual sort of greeting, approaching the counter.]

You got much left to do to finish up?

[feintofhart]

Oooh, right, the date!

[ Claude looks up from behind the counter where he'd been hard at work mashing something together with a mortar and pestle, hair mussed, and apron covered with unidentifiable stains. He knew it was today, but lost track of time, as he often seems to do when left to his own devices, which means he isn't presenting as the rakishly handsome stranger that he'd really like to.

Not that he's taking this seriously as a date. He's never gone on a date in his life and, frankly, he doesn't see that changing until it's finally time for him to find some ambitious woman whose ideals match his, and more importantly, who is both willing and able to withstand the tribulations of court life. Still, he fancies himself a friendly sort of guy, and the auction seemed like it was for a good cause.

He hadn't expected Shinji of all people to be the one to bet on him, but... well, he's got a funny feeling that it's not for any amorous reasoning. ]

Just give me ten minutes and I'll be right with you! [ He pours his work through a funnel and into a glass bottle and corks it, then sheds his gloves and his apron, looking Shinji over in a friendly sort of way. ]

I'll be completely at your disposal this evening. Which of my offerings appealed to you, exactly?

[ He can't provide a whole lot of romance, not that he advertised the fact -- so he's making up for it with activities. ]

text

[expi]

DIRECTED TO: CLAUDE VON REIGAN
LISTED CRIME: DECEPTION

The Council has selected you for sentencing to atone for the above listed crimes. You are directed to turn yourself in within two (2) hours of receiving this message, or you will be forcibly detained. You are to meet the Council's representative outside of City Hall in order to respond to this summons.

Respectfully,
Jerry

[feintofhart]

[ Well, shit! ]

Still keeping up with the criminal pretense, are we?

Two hours isn't a lot of notice, you know. What if I get lost? The whole city changed! How am I ever supposed to find my way around? My silly little brain couldn't possibly figure out this new world you've set us up with.

letter;

[threadmage]

[ A blush envelope arrives with just "Claude" written on the outside. Inside is a note card with elegant writing. ]

Dear Claude,

You were very gracious to walk me home in the dark last month. The soda you made for me is the best I've ever tasted. Thank you very much for helping me when I needed it.

-Sandry fa Toren

return letter!

[feintofhart]

[ A letter! How charming! He remembers that, despite his former self's behaviour, Sandry had been nothing but sweet to him. Sweet in this world as well, too.

It feels quaint, almost old-fashioned to receive something like this after becoming accustomed to more immediate communication, so of course Claude has to send one back. His own cursive is less neat, a thin, spidery scrawl that is nonetheless perfectly legible. ]

Dear Sandry fa Toren,

Though my other self was quite distinct from the person I am now, I'm glad that I could provide you with some relief underneath trying circumstances. I hope that you have been adjusting to the sudden shift in our circumstances to the best of your ability.

I am no longer a bartender in this world, but an apothecarist. While I cannot hope to mimic that soda I prepared for you, please feel free to come by anytime for a cup of tea. I'm certain I can put together a blend that is equally to your liking.

Yours,

Claude von Riegan

text; pre-event

[entreats]

[ Ange isn't sure how good Claude is with text on these newer things, but.. well, it feels like the easiest option, considering what has been going on with him here. He'll probably feel way less frustrating communicating without having to show either a facial expression or a tone if the effects of his sentencing are still sticking.

So he'll just receive a very short and simple text on his tablet, reading: ]

Have you figured out games yet?

[ .. a question that probably needs a little bit more context for poor Claude, huh. But it's not Ange if she isn't being terribly direct and to the point.. ]

[feintofhart]

[ The answer is that Claude is awful at most of everything to do with his new tablet, but texting? That, he's got down pat. It beats the hell out of messenger pigeons. ]

What do you mean 'yet'? I was a proud member of chess club back in the day, I'll have you know.

[ No, he has no fucking clue what she's talking about. ]

[invinciblemikey]

get me your best stuff, roll it, clear out your evening, and meet me outside the apothecary.

i wanna go on a ride.

[feintofhart]

Sure. What kind of ride are we talking about here?

[snowslip]

[ Claude's birthday has come and passed in the midst of crisis, but belatedly Marianne has left him a present (when Aldrip has calmed down again and he's revived and recovered? Recovering?? Everything happens so much).

Inside the neatly-wrapped package, he'll find a happy birthday note with well-wishes from Marianne, a leather notebook, and two cloth bookmarks with hand-embroidered designs, one with yellow flowers and the other with the outline of a wyvern. ]

[feintofhart]

[ Marianne! You shouldn't have!

Next time he sees her, Marianne's getting a hearty thank you and, if she's amenable, a big hug -- he's genuinely touched by the gesture! ]

action, post-event;

[entreats]

[ As the city turns back to normal, and as people return to life after the week is over, maybe Claude is tempted to put all this behind this. Just go back to life. Pretend that this whole death thing never happened. Really, who would have noticed any specific singular person dying in the middle of all that chaos, especially if they were not present for the death itself?

.. except Claude might notice something. Specifically when he goes looking for his wyvern after all of that, in fact. When he does, he won't find just the wyvern by itself - though, considering the wyvern's relative size, it's easier to spot Zafeera first. But it's not too difficult to see a moment later that there's something curled up against Zafeera's side.

With that bright red hair, it can only be Ange. She seems to have found a spot against the creature's side without too much roughness or spikes or sharp angles to cuddle up against.

Ange's eyes are closed. Maybe she's sleeping? ]

[feintofhart]

[ He's back.

It's as though he was never gone. It feels strangely anticlimactic for having died. The last thing he remembers was the pain wracking his body, fear and adrenaline racing through his veins, and then realizing with a grim sense of certainty that he didn't feel much of anything anymore. The pain had simply left his body, replaced with an odd sensation of nothingness. There had been the faintest feeling of remorse, blood on his lips as he realized that this is where all of his dreams would die, and the moment he stopped fighting was the moment he realized he was going to die. And then there was... nothing.

And then there was something. He was back. Death here was as impermanent for him as it was for everyone else in this blasted place. Claude knows that he ought to feel relieved for that, or grateful, knowing just how many people never get a second chance -- but all he feels is tired as he trudges back home, knowing that nothing but more thankless work will be waiting for him. His feet feel heavy, his head full of cotton as he tries to puzzle out what happens next.

Not too much. Half of the city probably died last week. The chances of anybody noticing him as unique amidst the rest of the devastation is fairly low, especially if any of the survivors steered clear of the wreckage of where he'd had his last stand. So he'll go home, he'll fix up what he can and rescue all of his hard work, and then he'll...

He'll sleep, he decides. And then he'll wake up his old chipper self, and nobody will be any the wiser.

At least, that's his plan before his weary feet bring him home, only to see a splash of bright red against the ivory scales of Zafeera. His eyes widen. ]

...Ange?

[ What is she doing here? She should be at home, with her friends, not -- sleeping out here with Zaffy, waiting for the likes of him. That can't be all it is, can it? That wouldn't be right.

He hasn't even had enough time to put his face back on yet and greet her with a smile and a wink, an aw shucks, you were worried about little ol' me? There are limits to even his capacity for showmanship. ]

[invinciblemikey]

not hearing from you ain't cute of you, claude.

meet me at the dojo. i wanna look at you.

[feintofhart]

Sorry. It's been a hell of a month.

Forgotten what I look like already?

action

[baldrshand]

[Marianne is no longer here. Gone home, apparently... to a future, Ethlyn hopes, with more confidence, more faith in herself as she prepares to take up her father's mantle and stand strong as the Marquise.

Free, too, from the seeming slow breakdown of this world. So Ethlyn tells herself, over and over. Yet as much as she misses her friend, Ethlyn knows someone who will be missing her more. Ethlyn half-expects to be delayed by a glacier in the streets or some such as she rides to the apothecary with a basket held in front of her on the saddle.

Somehow she arrives without incident. The bell tinkles as she enters.]

Hello, Claude.

[feintofhart]

[ It was bound to happen eventually.

If it wasn't Marianne gone home first, it would have been Claude. Claude isn't certain whether he counts himself as being fortunate or not for staying -- he knows that if he had a chance to leave, he'd feel as though he'd have to take it. And yet, there's a greater part of him that is reluctant to leave the people here behind with nary a parting word, just as he believes that Marianne herself would have much rather given everyone a hug good-bye, given a horse an apple or two, clean up the remainders of her business.

It feels a bit like fate, her going home so soon after he'd confessed to Jim that he and Marianne weren't likely to ever see each other again. Not the versions of them they had come to know and love. Back home, a different Marianne waits for him, still as retiring and sweet, but one who has not yet accepted him for who he is, one who has not yet confessed to him the nature of her anxiety.

It's all deeply depressing. And so he focuses on his work, this time not busying himself with some concoction behind the counter, but with a pile of papers. Bills, agreements, plans -- he has a business to build, and workers to hire. ]

Ah, hello Ethlyn! [ He greets her pleasantly, absently licking at the end of his pen to get the dried ink to loosen up. ] You weren't expecting an order, were you? [ He frowns, shuffling a little through his sheaf of papers. ] I don't think it'll be ready in full until next week.

( text )

[nilhilistic]

We should talk.

( text )

[feintofhart]

You have to realize how ominous that sounds, Rafal. Should I be worried?

a few weeks after gnosia days

[memori3s]

[ Minato knows not what Claude's ultimate fate amounted to. After Zafeera deposited him and Koromaru someplace safe, she'd flown off, presumably returning to the ambushed apothecary.

And so, Minato and Koromaru remained in that spot, huddled together in an abandoned shed with Koromaru pressed against his companion's side. The boy crouched next to him, trembling as he hid his face within the dog's pale fur. It's what Minato needed, based on his shuddering breaths and the damp spot his eyes left against Koromaru's neck. It seems the past few days were simply too severe, to the point that Minato could no longer maintain his practiced composure.

But of course not. The past week had been rife with others' suffering while, in her cruelty, Fate permitted Minato to live as misfortune followed him like a shadow. Clearly, the solution was to simply avoid associating with others, even as relative normalcy descended upon Aldrip once again like a shroud.

Claude is no exception to Minato's avoidance. That intentional tiptoeing around others cannot last though. It's why Minato finds himself outside the apothecary today. Wooden planks are stacked outside the building, along with some tools strewn here and there. Clearly, someone's been rather busy with rebuilding. It leaves Minato's heart sinking to his stomach. Perhaps he shouldn't have avoided checking in with Claude for so long. After all, he's responsible for the man's injuries and the damage done to his home and his business. He should have offered his help sooner.

There's no use in mourning over the unfulfilled past. He's here now. Surely, he thinks to himself, that must count for something, all while he swallows down his shame. He steps forward, slowly pushing the door open before suddenly permitting it to swing shut again. Given the state of Claude's beloved establishment and the injuries he'd sustained... would the man even wish to see Minato again?

He's left lingering on the doorstep, one hand clutching the apothecary's door handle as his knuckles turn white with indecision. ]

[feintofhart]

[ By now, Claude's equilibrium has more or less returned to him. It's not that he's unaffected by it - he is - or that it isn't haunting him in his own way, but it only took a matter of days for him to manage to slide the mask back on with the certainty that he needs to get by. He died, yes, but so did everyone else. In fact, it seems to him as though everyone else here has died more than once, so he needs to stop moping around about it, scrape himself up from off the floor, and get on with business.

Which is precisely what he's done. By the time Minato shows up, Claude is deep in organizing his inventory after having replenished some of his destroyed stores. It will take months to get his stocks back to where he wants them, he knows, but he's no stranger to a slow and steady ascent back to where he needs to be. As he busies himself with putting a glass jar filled with disinfecting herbs back on the shelf, he pauses, hearing a rustle at the front door, and then... nothing.

Claude frowns. That won't do, he decides. If it's a pest, then he must chase it away, but more importantly, if it's a customer... he really needs more funding for the projects he's planning on tackling next. So it's with a performer's aplomb that he thrusts the door open with a chipper, ] No need to tarry at my door! We're open! The mess out here hasn't impacted by goods at all, I'll assure... ah.

[ The one person he hadn't been expecting was Minato. He'd known that he had made it out of here safely through the grapevine, but no more than that. The boy had been an absolute wreck when Claude had seen him last, thin frame trembling, barely able to take in a breath, wracked with the horrific sight of seeing his friends dead at each other's hands -- it had been no wonder he wanted to avoid Claude, whether that was out of guilt or out of embarrassment. Claude could understand both feelings well enough and had decided not to push him at all as a result.

He'd been long gone by the time Claude had met his end. And while he won't lie to the boy's face, he has no intention of piling onto the kid's guilt. That was Claude's choice. The only person who needs to bear that weight is him, quietly grappling with what had happened to his sense of self-preservation. ]

Long time no see, Minato! How can I help you?

[computation]

I promised you some information after the world stopped ending. Least I can do after you helped with the reset.

[ Root says that, but she's not tracking down everyone to have a conversation with information on offer; just Claude and Ange. It makes for a nice social excuse, though. ]

[feintofhart]

Root! So nice to hear from you again. Especially with offers of information. That's music to my ears.

Count me as your willing student. What have you got for me?

action; during the november event!

[entreats]

[ Of course Ange immediately tried to contact Claude, as soon as she realized that something bad was going on with the city. Not Gnosia levels of bad - or she hopes so, at least, but it's hard to tell what exactly the scope is of what's going on at the moment - but bad all the same.

Technically she should be safe if she stays inside, she figures. It's not like her housemates are powerless either, and if something attacks, they should probably be fine together. But Claude-- Claude lives by himself, right? Even though he's strong, who knows what could happen in a situation like this. What if he gets hurt? What if dies? Again?

Ange can't live with that thought. And when she realizes that the tablets are utterly useless for sending any messages right now, the girl instead just decides to go see him. Screw the danger. It's not like she's just going to run through the streets like a maniac anyway, she'll be careful about it. She can make it there.

Maybe Claude has had a similar line of thought on his end - of wanting to make sure Ange is okay, and not really having any way of doing that other than to go in person right now. Maybe he's out for some other reason.

Either way, if he's also out on the streets under the mid-day moon, Claude may be able to pick up on the sound of a scream.

A scream that sounds like Ange's.

He'll easily discover it is in fact hers if he turns a corner - where he'll be able to see Ange with her back pressed up against the wall of a building, and a large monster standing in front of her. It looks canine, but with two heads, actively on fire, and growling at the girl. ]

yayyyy ty ty!! <3

[feintofhart]

[ It's not long after Claude is alerted that something is fishy in the streets of Aldrip - again, again, again - that he's packed his things and headed out the door, hoping to make contact with everyone he can. He has a list of them, in fact, with Ange chiefly among them; while he'd like to guarantee the safety of everyone here, he's aware of his own limited power, and others' reluctance for accepting help or to be told to stay put. And so he has his list of people to check on, locations to look in, his bow and arrow and sword at the ready and, perhaps most importantly of all, a pouch filled with everything he needs to administer basic first-aid.

If you'd told him a year ago that one of his primary concerns would be that of a healer, not an archer, he'd say you were lying -- but these days, he's aware that his fighting prowess is matched by many here, but his healing prowess, shabby though it is, is not. It's with this in mind that he's stomping through the streets, eschewing flying through the city in favour of being able to find others in need of help, arrow nocked and at the ready in case of...

What, he doesn't know yet. Something, though. There's always something. Instead of coming face-to-face with any horrific doubles or monsters roaming the streets, it's deathly, eerily quiet. He would almost welcome a disturbance to break the stillness of the quiet night's air, he thinks.

A thought that he regrets almost immediately as the sound of Ange's voice peals through the night sky. At first he thinks he's just hearing things, hearing what he wants most of all not to hear -- but no, he'd recognize her voice anywhere. He switches from his leisurely pace into an all-out sprint, searching wildly for the source of the scream (don't let me be too late, please), when he sees her face-to-face with some fearsome beast, not terribly unlike the beasts he faces down at home. Alone. Again. Goddamn it. ]

Hey, ugly!

[ Don't worry, Ange. He's not talking about you. This isn't an appropriate time for his bow and arrow; instead, he unsheaths his sword and charges towards it with the sort of confidence and vigor won only by years on the battlefield, leaping into the air and bearing down upon it with as much weight as he can muster. The sword may not be his weapon of choice, but he knows how to wield it as well as any self-respecting Almyran Prince. You live and die by the sword back in Almyra, and this time? He's intending for he and Ange alike to live. ]

Ange, get out of there!

[ Rule one: don't let yourself be cornered. Easier said than done, maybe, but at least now he makes for a suitable distraction. ]

voice; early december

[entreats]

[ Guess what, Claude. Someone is trying to reach you.

Rather insistently, in fact. If he happens to be busy working or doing something else, the sound of him being called will keep on resounding from his tablet, all the way until he picks up. ]

Have you been looking at the network?

[ Not even a 'hi'! Sounds like this is important, or maybe Ange just wants to cut to the chase real bad.. ]

[feintofhart]

Why, hello Ange, so nice to speak with you too! I've been well, thank you for asking. It's been chilly these days? You don't say.

[ There's a laugh in his voice. He doesn't expect anything else from Ange these days. ]

No, I haven't. Please tell me there's no more holes in reality. I don't think I can handle doing all that again.

IC delivery

[traumaticus]

[It's early in the 25th morning. Most people are still sleeping and the sun is only about to send its first rays to break the darkness of the night sky. But then there is a sudden knock on a door. Huh?! Who could it be! Whenever Claude gets to the door, be it immediately or hours late they will find a christmas wreath with white roses placed on their doorstep. There might even be snowy (or wet!) small hoof marks leading away from the present. Hm. I wonder, who indeed did deliver this?

On the wreath there is a letter that reads:]

Dearest Claude,

Thank you for continuously helping me by providing the needed medication for my injury. Your efforts as a pillar of this community are truly appreciated. There will be a feast held at the Inn’s tavern for the next 12 days and I welcome you to enjoy it for free. There will be warm food, treats and homemade mead and wine at your disposal.

Merry Christmas.

Signed,
Richard Plantagenet, The Duke of Gloucester

[ooc: There will be no ic mingle log for the feast. But feel free to either handwave or thread it out!]

[feintofhart]

[ The gift is received with gratitude, and Claude absolutely attends the feasting at the Inn -- how could he possibly resist? And when he arrives, Richard will receive a package of his own, written in Claude's very best script. ]

A pleasure as always to do business with you, Richard, and perhaps one day we can do more than business. Do a man a favour and have a drink with him sometime, won't you? I'm sure you can make time out of your busy schedule.

May your hearth burn bright through the dark nights of the season and may all holidays be loving and fruitful.

Sincerely,

Claude von Riegan, your fellow Duke of Gloucester

[ Enclosed in the package is a smattering of gifts from the Apothecary itself (including a freebie of burn ointment nestled among the teas and treats), as well as a little package of dog treats for his pig. ]

backdated to the evening after the festivities.

[ashaya]

[ Be it predictable or not, Spock was never one to leave someone with all the mess as it were. He'd quietly and without complaint taken part in the neatening of Claude's venue, righting tables and putting to use a little extra "elbow grease" that that Vulcan strength of his provides upon particularly stubborn dishware and spills. He himself was more tired than usual, yes, but certainly no more or less than their host and others in attendance.

What was most advantageous to him? Well, it wasn't as easily viewed.

Either way, once all and sundry cleared out and once Claude himself viewed it fit to wander again downstairs, he'll happen upon a sharply packaged box of what appears to be... Confections? Yes, confections. It is addressed to him in an equally precise and measured hand and centered upon a (freshly scrubbed) table, but there is no sender. There is, however, a dedicated list of ingredients on the reverse side of the card (down, it would seem, to even the most minute and insignificant).

Closer inspection and a lifting of the lid will earn Claude a lovely comingling of scents. What lay therein are perfectly circular and powdered... Donuts? No, sufganiyot.

That's what the card says, anyway.

Regardless, the jams within the neat pockets of fried dough are indicated with a piece of perfectly cut and candied fruit. It appears that some are orange, some are date, some are apricot, and some are strawberry.

Curiouser and curiouser, indeed. ]

[feintofhart]

[ Claude is, generally speaking, underneath the impression that his past does not overly shape who he is, his paranoia, his logic, his mannerisms. It's something that's completely detached from him. It has no relevance to him now.

But one thing he'll never mess around with is food. Even if the sufganiyot - whatever those are - smell delicious and the card is labeled to him... what if it's from one of his enemies? Never mind the fact that he doesn't even have enemies here, but. What if?

After a little deductive work (the list of people who would willingly give him a present is relatively short), he eventually settles on the only person he knows with that tidy script that he recognizes from his journal.

But he'll still give him a call anyway.

Ring, ring, Spock! It's Claude! ]

private text - un: punchesu

[grappler]

hey, Claude.

[it's so weird to be contacting people she knows here, still... like nothing had ever happened.]

you got anything for sleep in your shop?

[feintofhart]

Believe it or not, that's what most people come to me for. I've got some gentle remedies and some more extreme measures, if need be.

[ He's already met with Cait -- and seen what became of her eye. He doubts whatever Vi has faced is much better. ]

Insomnia? Nightmares? Both?