“No more sleep. Open your eyes.”
Greg's eyes opened. He blinked at Dustin, and for one unguarded second his expression was so openly warm that Dustin almost looked away from it.
Almost.
“You're going transparent,” Dustin said, breaking the moment.
Greg looked down at himself.
“Oh,” he said quietly.
“Yeah.”
Greg sat up slowly, holding his hand in front of his face. He turned it over, flexed his fingers, watched the light pass through the edges of them. His jaw tightened.
“I think,” he said. “I need to get my clipboard. I leftit on the highway.”
“I remember.” Dustin was already scanning for his jeans. “Give me two minutes and I'll drive you.”
“Dustin.” Greg glanced at him. Then at the sling. “You have one functional arm.”
“I drove us here with one functional arm.”
“And it was harrowing.”
“It was fine.”
Greg shook his head. “The accident site is over an hour away by car. I can be there in seconds if I teleport.”
Dustin wanted to argue. He didn't want Greg to leave. But that was irrational. Entirely irrational.
“Fine,” Dustin made himself say. “Go.”
Greg found his shirt on the floor and pulled it on. Then his pants. Finally he put on his glasses—with visible relief, like the world only came into focus through lenses he didn't need.
He stood in the middle of the motel room, dressed and bespectacled and dissolving at the edges, and looked at Dustin with an expression that was doing too many things at once.
Dustin wanted to ask him if he'd come back, but he couldn't quite get the words to leave his lips. “What do you want to do for dinner?” he asked instead.
Greg blinked. “What?”
“Tonight. I need to know what you're in the mood for so I can find a place. Grilled cheese maybe? Or another burger? I think I saw a Mexican place while we were driving.”
Something shifted behind Greg's eyes. His shoulders loosened slightly. “I don't know if I like Mexican food,” he said. “Is it good?”
“It's great.”
“What if I don't like it?”
“Then you've made a new experience.”
“That's good.” Greg said, signing up for the mission. “Will there be a milkshake?”
“I'll make sure there's a milkshake.”
“Okay.” Greg nodded again, more firmly this time. “Okay. I'll be back.”
“Go, Greg. Before you lose any more pixels.”
