Starstruck

We return back to the rusty, derelict, old metal place this comic started at. An ominous presence leans towards the monitors of the Terminal. An image of Cain outside their room is visible as a reflection across the glass surface in front of the person's face. They seem to be wearing some sort of helmet.

You lurch over the TERMINAL. It's been online for more than half an hour, but you're still in shock, being able to see someone else again for the first time in ages. Even this wet sock of a person in front of you is a charming delight to see. For once.

You hesitate, feeling anxious, and look yourself over again, losing your streak for a moment as CAIN gets a few seconds of unsupervised liberty.

It's hard to feel confident about what you're writing into the TERMINAL. You've run it through your head a hundred times, thought through every possible permutation in all the time you've had out here. Yet nothing in all that math and reasoning makes you feel less nauseous, less guilty for involving yourself with them yet again.

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