It's never too early to be excitable, at least when there's something to be excited about, and realizing this is truly not some sort of dream or hallucination--or at least not one that broke in the night--more than qualifies. But he understands the message in Francis' words and tone, and although the fluttering of hope in his chest doesn't fade, James lowers himself back down to lie flat on the bed as his head begins to spin. He definitely sat up too fast, but can't even be bothered by it.
They're both still here. This is real.
He knows, distantly, that this is going to be something complicated to deal with. He hadn't planned to live, hadn't planned to have to face what happened, especially at the end. It's something he doesn't want to do, will avoid as long as possible, and he knows it will be a struggle in the future.
But right now, he can take a moment, and be glad to be alive.
"Is it early?" He asks, in response to Francis' last comment, completely unable to tell by the brightness or angle of the sun; he'd become accustomed to the patterns of the arctic, as strange as they had been. Not that it likely matters what time of day it actually is, with no traveling to be done, but that in itself feels strange and novel still as well.
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They're both still here. This is real.
He knows, distantly, that this is going to be something complicated to deal with. He hadn't planned to live, hadn't planned to have to face what happened, especially at the end. It's something he doesn't want to do, will avoid as long as possible, and he knows it will be a struggle in the future.
But right now, he can take a moment, and be glad to be alive.
"Is it early?" He asks, in response to Francis' last comment, completely unable to tell by the brightness or angle of the sun; he'd become accustomed to the patterns of the arctic, as strange as they had been. Not that it likely matters what time of day it actually is, with no traveling to be done, but that in itself feels strange and novel still as well.