The clatter of the book landing doesn't even startle the boy. His eyes are too blue, his pupils pinpricks left staring at the ceiling.

Things trickle through the filter of the separate consciousness, seeping inside for Lucas to know later.

He's in a bed built for rest and utility. He's seen this ceiling before. There's the voice of a friend.

Lucas is somewhere safe. Lucas is not alone.

So rest a little more.