I-- [There's a sound of rustling, like Quentin is shifting around maybe, curling around the tablet in a corner somewhere, away from the slowly emerging sleepers. Except they're not anymore, they're all awake and talking quietly to each other or to Quentin. And he's spent so long wishing for this, hoping against hope that they would all wake up and be exactly as before and now -- they really need to be a little more quiet?

There's life in the armory again, the feeling of other people doing people things and they don't really understand what it's been like, to stay here in the dark with little company and less hope. Where every stand could be the last and the person standing shoulder to shoulder with you, could very well be the last person you'll ever see. They don't understand why the hallway is littered with weapons or why it had to done, why there are wounds left untended on the people who haven't really slept in weeks or why being around a lot of people who can talk back? Is just a lot right now.

So, Quentin is tucked away somewhere, not hiding but breathing and he pulls the tablet closer, speaking lower. Heartfelt and stumbling.]

It's-- you're welcome. I'd like to say 'anytime', but jesus I really don't want to do this again any time soon. It's been-- [Riku knew what it had been like, no words had to be said about that, no explanation necessary] As horrible as this is going to make me sound? I'm happy you were here. The-- that it was you? Easier to fight with someone you trust than someone you don't.