Mick isn't completely under. He drifts, always coming close to awareness when there's movement nearby. Touches are quick and clinical, replacing ice packs, checking vitals. Nothing like the sort of touch he's quietly craved his entire life. Care. Gentleness. Mick knew growing up that touch could mean things that were good, even if his old man only delivered pain and his mother was too terrified to reach out.
So the warm weight of a hand taking his, fingers curling around his, is enough to force him towards awareness.
It's different. People don't reach out to him like that. At least people who are still around.
"Nngh," a groan as he opens his eyes. Oh. Cisco. Not Ramon, not Nerd, not Hairdo or anything else like that. Since arriving here he's just been.. Cisco. His friend. Mick's fingers twitch in response. He shouldn't have vanished on him like that. He shouldn't. But Mick isn't that great at processing grief and loss and the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at him.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-03-06 03:51 pm (UTC)So the warm weight of a hand taking his, fingers curling around his, is enough to force him towards awareness.
It's different. People don't reach out to him like that.
At least people who are still around.
"Nngh," a groan as he opens his eyes.
Oh. Cisco. Not Ramon, not Nerd, not Hairdo or anything else like that. Since arriving here he's just been.. Cisco. His friend. Mick's fingers twitch in response. He shouldn't have vanished on him like that. He shouldn't. But Mick isn't that great at processing grief and loss and the last thing he wanted to do was lash out at him.
God he's so bad at this.
"'m sorry." That's a start, right?