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“Thirty seven, thirty eight, thirty nine…”

An exhale. Pale lids rose, revealing bright blue eyes that were a healthy mix of exasperated and familiarly fond. “You’re counting out loud again, Jaqobis.”

Johnny’s body folded inward, and with a puff of air he flung himself backwards against the floor. Legs and arms akimbo, he stared at the ceiling.

“Are you sure meditation is a thing I have to do? Can’t I just, I don’t know, fetch water and deliver mail or something? Fix everyone’s toasters?” His head lolled to one side and when his eyes met Alvis’ they managed to be both exhausted and self deprecatingly amused.

“Everyone serves in their own way,” Alvis admitted with his characteristic flatness. It’d been a few months now though and Johnny could read nuance into his seemingly expressionless responses. The humor in his eyes, for example, and the quick way his eyes flitted away from Johnny’s when they met. A faint thread of uncertainty.

Too bad Johnny knew it had nothing to do with his chances at using his robes to fix toasters.
He turned to face the ceiling again. “I’ve just never been good at this whole focusing, clearing your mind thing. I get distracted easy.” Johnny felt rather than saw those eyes on him again. “If this is a requirement maybe you made the wrong call.”

Johnny didn’t have his robes yet; he was still in training. He was wearing a plain black hooded outfit instead and he felt kind of like he should have a dagger up his billowed sleeves and a sinister snarl. Like he was some kind of villain out of the stories D’av used to read to him when he was a kid.

He knew he could look out for himself. Between the time when D’av left and Dutch found him he’d managed just fine, but it’d been a pretty narrow window. He’d spent most of his life having people cover his ass, and while he’d like to think that he’d pulled his own weight it’d been a long time since he’d thought about the kind of man he wanted to be. The kind of cause he wanted to fight for. He’d spent too long fighting just to stay alive.

An exhale. One, two, three…

He was alive. More than that, he was alive and he had allies and a sense of self and a sense of purpose. He knew who he was, even if he didn’t know who he was becoming just yet. And he knew what he needed to do. Clarity smoothed the frown from his forehead, though he startled at the feel of a cool thumb pressed between his eyebrows.

Alvis was kneeling on the floor, a faint smile hovering just above him.

“Try again.”