No matter how much or little death affected one, all could agree it was not easy to deal with.

Especially in cases like such. They always said “Never get too attached to your teammates” for a reason. But that was hard when it felt like found family here. The small service the team had for him was hard, but you wanted to be there. You could still feel him in your heart, you always would. And now, the healing process had to begin.

You decided not to go to his childhood home - that wouldn’t have felt right. So to his room it was. You started with the bedroom - just gathering clothes & trinkets, things that would collect dust so that the place could atleast be kept somewhat clean & okay. Then it was the library. You almost felt as though he were sitting right behind you in that chair, drinking wine & reading one of his favorites over & over.. maybe even treating himself to a rare cigar. A part of you expected for him to talk to you, but.. no. Still, it was a way for you to cope.

After probably 5 minutes of packing up the bigger & older books, the temperature in the room suddenly dropped. Jeez, it did not need to be this cold on the cusp of winter. You stood up to turn around, to go check the thermostat, but were met by something unexpected. Someone.

There he stood, clouded, glowing & iridescent. Maskless, too, was your old friend.

“Miss me, mon ami?"