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Aleksy was awake. He was wide awake, and currently pursuing vengeance against his roommate for yet another Animal Crossing slight. Such insults as Thorne had brandished at him would not be borne!... Especially since Aleksy could still brag about being allowed to eat real food. Take that!

(He would never really rub it in Thorne's face that Aleksy hadn't been eviscerated, but he thought about it sometimes.)

"Hey," said Aleksy, who was much more cogent now that his painkiller dosage was slightly less. At least it was like, less enough that he could focus on things as opposed to fuzzily planting flowers in Animal Crossing. "It's you. Mixlin."

Aleksy looked up from the screen. "Animal Crossing," he said. "Jeremiah gave it to me." And Thorne... Thorne was just a weirdo. Who Aleksy totally wanted to hold and protect for the rest of his life, which was weird, because Aleksy also wanted to hold and protect Finn. Frick.

The books were from Aleksy's own collection, he noted once he had shut off the game. The Cyrillic titles were familiar to him, and that made him smile a little as he pulled them onto his lap. "Spasibo, Mixlin. I can only farm flowers for so long." At least he'd be out in a day or two. Once they were sure there would be no infection.

"You show your age so easily," said Aleksy, opening the book carefully. It still hurt to move his arms, what little he could, and what he did manage was more like flicking the book cover open. The muscles in his upper arms had been ******** up; his left arm had been a shallow wound, thankfully, though it still boasted nineteen stitches. His right arm, though, that was useless for the time being. "I am well. No more adventures for me, however." He made a minimal gesture with his left hand, indicating the way his right arm was literally bandaged to his side.

Aleksy was heartbroken. See how sad he was? He smiled as he read the note in his sister's awful cursive Cyrillic, rather unbothered.

Aleksy sniffed uncomfortably. "I am high to care," he said, Russian grammar leaking through. "Wolf people. Fox people. Bunny people. Ravening monsters. People with lines connect them to animal. Succulent water with blood, tree leaves disappear, see rain instead of building! Who care."

Aleksy cared. He obviously still cared.

"You are old," said Aleksy, probably rudely. "Forehead wrinkles and all."

"I will not share," said Aleksy. "They are mine for to be less hurt."

He hurt a lot. He was not sharing his painkillers.

"Finnsha is fine. He is sturdier than he look." This was followed by a short jumble of sharp Russian consonants and broad vowels: the sentiment was clear if the meaning wasn't. That idiot. There was a quiet, pleased little smile too, the smile of a man thinking of a lover. "You will see."

"Please check on Finnsha," said Aleksy. "He is dumbass, but is my dumbass. I love him."

That last part was a secret. So secret, in fact, that Aleksy didn't know.

Aleksy finished up that touching thought with: "Don't let him be dumb as s**t while I am gone."